


A Matched Pair

by supersemantic



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Canon Divergence, Edeleth, F/F, F/M, Gen, Golden route, Minor Annette Fantine Dominic/Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert, Minor Bernadetta von Varley/Hubert von Vestra, Minor Caspar von Bergliez/Hilda Valentine Goneril, Minor Dorothea Arnault/Yuris Leclair | Yuri Leclerc, Minor Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier, Minor Ingrid Brandl Galatea/Dedue Molinaro, Minor Linhardt von Hevring/Lysithea von Ordelia, Minor Lorenz Hellman Gloucester/Leonie Pinelli, Minor Mercedes von Martritz/Constance von Nuvelle, Minor Petra Macneary/Ferdinand von Aegirt, Minor Raphael Kirsten/Hapi, Multi, My First Fanfic, OC Male Twin, Time Travel Fix-It, Twin Byleths, Unsubtle ships, spoilers for all routes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:42:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 47
Words: 312,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27890962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supersemantic/pseuds/supersemantic
Summary: Byleth is tired. She's tried over and over again, unsuccessfully, to save everyone she can, but there's always something she gets wrong, something out of her control. She's gotten very good at navigating life at Garreg Mach, and time is basically meaningless to her, so she keeps trying to find some way to save everyone she loves. She readies herself for another try when the universe throws her a curve ball - a fraternal twin who was raised at Garreg Mach, unbeknownst to her or to Jeralt. She resolves herself to learning to work together with her unexpected sibling, who harbors his own suspicions and agenda. Will this, finally, be the one that goes right?
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Marianne von Edmund, Edelgard von Hresvelg/My Unit | Byleth, My Unit | Byleth & Sothis, My Unit | Byleth/Claude von Riegan, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added
Comments: 264
Kudos: 175





	1. The Great Tree Moon, Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth wakes up, saves the lords, and arrives at the monastery. Once there, she finds that Rhea acting even more creepy than normal, and we meet the other star of the show.

**\- 20th of the Great Tree Moon, Imperial Year 1180 -**

She sucked in air as though she had never breathed before. A ridiculous notion, of course - if anyone had ever breathed _more_ than Byleth had in her many lifetimes, she would love to meet them. Perhaps they could swap tales of what it was like to be an immortal, condemned to wander the land… A pang of guilt ran through her at that thought. Condemned? Was it really fair to say that when she was the one who chose this path? She took a moment to clear her head, and looked around. Right about now was when--

“Oh my. What could have brought you here?”

Sothis. Some things never changed, at least. There she was, her old, faithful companion, bound to talk her ear off for eternity… Or at least, for the next year or so of real time. She couldn’t help giving her a smile - and after all, why shouldn’t she? Once Byleth dispensed with Sothis’ understandable curiosity at not only being awake but also having some oddly-dressed, blue-haired human standing in front of her in the middle of a formless void, she had always proven to be a stalwart ally. After all, she was the only other person who could truly shoulder the burden Byleth would be facing again.

“Hello again, Sothis.”

The diminutive goddess’ eyes widened in shock, before narrowing in suspicion. “I beg your pardon? Sothis? Whatever… do you… Huh.” Understanding flooded her face.

“Hmm. Sothis… Yes, that is it. My name is Sothis. And… and I am called--”

“The Beginning”, Byleth proffered. She had to stifle a laugh at the look of shock on Sothis’ face. It wouldn’t do any good to make her upset this early on. She still had to gain her trust, not that it would be hard. It wasn’t as though Sothis had anywhere else to be.

Jumping in before Sothis could speak again, Byleth extended an olive branch: “I know that you likely have a thousand questions for me. If I were in your position, I’d have questions too. I promise, I will answer every single question you have soon. But for now, at least… I’m about to wake up. We’ll be speaking again soon though, don’t worry.” She conveniently left out the part where they would be speaking again only because Sothis brought time to a screeching halt to save the both of them from an ugly death. She gave her dear friend a mysterious smile, before feeling the familiar sensation of waking up.

\---

“Hey. Time to wake up.”

Amazing how five words had made her come undone on the first occasion she had heard them for the second time. As she willed her eyes open, Byleth took in her father’s form hulking before her. Her emotionality started blooming, but she cut that line of thinking off immediately before slipping her old, neutral mask back on. The mask was that of the Ashen Demon, a fierce warrior feared the continent over for ruthless battle prowess, all without ever showing even a hint of emotion... Byleth had not truly been that person for a few hundred years by her reckoning, but she had long since decided that letting people see how she truly felt early on was more trouble than it was worth.

And yet, part of her _longed_ for her father to see what she was feeling without having to translate through years of practice watching for small cues and tics.

Shaking her head to chase her thoughts away, she said nothing as she pulled herself up into a half-sitting, half-reclining position on the scratchy inn bed in Remire.

Jeralt was, as she knew he would be, keenly watching her. His honey-colored eyes could examine a person every bit as intently as her deep blue ones could. Hopefully she had clamped down on her emotiveness quickly enough, otherwise things would start to get off the rails even more quickly than the time she had simply walked up to Edelgard and decapitated her. 

In her defense, she thought to herself (and to the little gremlin in her head who could not yet object to being referred to as such), she had had good reason to attempt that. After all, what better way to prevent a continent-spanning war than to kill the person responsible for sparking it? That lifetime had ended almost immediately. Instead of his usual cheerful self, Alois was all fury, understandably so. She’d been dragged to Garreg Mach in chains, forced to stand before a tribunal headed by Rhea herself, and summarily executed, before winding time back to the beginning. It was a good lesson - never push the fates _that_ hard.

Jeralt, unaware of his daughter’s thoughts, gently prompted her into conversation. “Were you having that dream again?”

She had a couple options here, but she had decided several lifetimes in to never lie to her father if she could help it. She could be completely truthful, but that would be a decidedly bad idea, as Jeralt might think she’d gone insane. The best answer was, unfortunately, a boring one... But Byleth was feeling mischievous this time around. Perhaps she would continue to push the boundaries a _little._

“I was dreaming about a young girl on a throne.”

Jeralt cocked an eyebrow. “Hmm. You’ve described the girl to me before, but the throne’s new. A child queen, eh? I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like that…”

She let him do his usual speech about attentiveness on the battlefield, nodding at appropriate intervals, before he finished with a reminder that their next job was in the Kingdom. Faerghus. _Dimitri_. Painful memories flashed across her eyes, but she pushed them aside. Byleth was still supposed to be the Ashen Demon at this point, and the Ashen Demon does not cry, even if Dimitri had met his usual grizzly fate in her last lifetime once again. Even if she had cried for days at her own powerlessness.

Just then, one of the company mercenaries, a newcomer she had never bothered to learn the name of, ran into the room. Byleth had slept dressed before her eternal loop began, and throwing her armor and coat on while Jeralt was talking to her was normal behavior for her back then, so she was ready in just a few moments. She took a deep breath to brace herself, and stepped out into the pre-dawn darkness.

\---

“Please, forgive our intrusion. We wouldn’t bother you were the situation not dire.”

A pang shot through her chest as she saw the three house leaders once again, young, and as whole as she’d ever seen them while they all were alive. Dimitri, with his unkempt blond hair and flashing eyes of piercing icy blue, gave a small bow toward Jeralt in deference to the obviously more experienced mercenary. Claude had his usual easy false smile on at a perfect angle and green eyes on a swivel, and he looked the pair of Eisner mercenaries up and down analytically. She could practically hear the gears of his mind turning at high speed from here. Edelgard, as usual, had her own mask of decorum on, but her unearthly, lilac eyes burned with anticipation as she too examined the Eisners. _They were back again._

Her father scowled openly, his hand likely itching to reach for his flask. “What do a bunch of kids like you _want_ at this hour?”, he growled out, not bothering to hide his annoyance. None of the young lords seemed to take offense at this, though it was probably only because they were desperate for aid.

Dimitri was the picture of a noble trying to soothe raised hackles as he announced that they were being pursued by bandits. He sheepishly looked up at Jeralt, before adding, in a softer tone, “I can only hope that you will be so kind as to lend your support.”

Jeralt didn’t scoff at the young lordling openly, a fact which made Byleth swell with pride. He was far too practiced at dealing with noble clients for that. Instead, he simply asked for confirmation from the other two.

Edelgard piped up next, followed by Claude. Claude, as ever, had a good head on his shoulders. They were mercenaries, so he made sure to mention, as ham-fistedly as possible, that the bandits weren’t just out for blood, but for gold. Their gold. “Which can be yours if you help us", the words he left unsaid would likely have been.

Perhaps to stop from laughing at this obvious attempt at buying their help, her father closed his eyes for a moment, and rubbed the back of his head. It was a nervous tic, but no one had ever really spent the time with him that she had to learn it, except perhaps her late mother. 

“I’m just impressed you’re staying so calm considering the situation. I…” He paused, only now really taking in their appearances. “Wait a moment. That uniform--”

The pushy newcomer mercenary ran up to them again. Twice in one morning was setting a bad precedent for him, but at least as long as things went like they were meant to, he’d be fine. “Jeralt, sir! Bandits spotted just outside the village. Damn… There are a lot of them.” The poor greenhorn was shaking like a leaf. Byleth mastered the urge to reach out a comforting hand - if the Ashen Demon put her hand on a company mercenary, they'd usually just faint from fear.

Turning back to the young lords, Jeralt let out a sigh. “I guess they followed you all the way here.” Shifting his gaze to her, his voice found some steel. “We can’t abandon this village now. Come on, let’s move. I hope you’re ready to go.”

She nodded, and drew steel.

\---

As bandit massacres went, this one was never that challenging. In her first few lifetimes, Byleth had always tried to let the three young lords assist her, to build up their skills and inspire a little trust that could only be built from shedding blood together. But that was slow, and rather inefficient as far as she was concerned. It was much simpler to become a whirlwind of iron, striking down every bandit she came across before her father or the lords could get a word in. It always took longer than she wanted it to, though, and this time was no exception. She wanted to push over to the bandit leader, Kostas, to have him go after Edelgard, so she could _finally_ get this show on the road and explain everything to Sothis. At last her chance came, and as she felt the pain of the axe head coming down on her spine and heard the gasp of surprise from Edelgard, that familiar, lurching sensation washed over her as everything stopped.

“ _Honestly!_ What do you think you are accomplishing with that little stunt?! It’s like you’re _trying_ to get me killed, you fool!” Sothis and her grand throne faded into view, and Byleth straightened herself from her crouched position beneath the axe blade which was no longer there.

Before Sothis could launch into the next part, Byleth spoke up. “My apologies, but I said I would give you an explanation, right? What better time than… _this?_ ” She gestured widely to the surroundings she knew to be the Holy Tomb, shrouded in darkness save for the throne. Sothis, for her part, let go of her anger almost immediately as curiosity overtook her. “Oh, very well”, she said, in a tone that belied her obvious desire to know whatever it is Byleth had to say.

Byleth sat down, cross-legged, on the stone floor of the Tomb. Sothis arched an eyebrow in amusement at the sight of it, but remained silent, patiently waiting.

“I have lived this same part of my life over again roughly seven hundred and eighty… four times? I think it was around that - some of them were much shorter than others, and it does start to blend together eventually…” She adjusted her posture a little, trying to show that she was relaxed about the decidedly weird circumstances she and Sothis were in. “You are… Well, that’s hard to explain. You’re not a ghost, exactly, but you’re also not strictly _alive_. You were killed some fifteen hundred years ago, and because of actions taken by one of your daughters, your soul was bonded to my body when I was born.”

“She desperately wanted to bring her mother back into the world, and did some very questionable things to try to make that happen. Before I came around, her efforts had always failed, but that’s less important right now. The first time I lived this part of my life, you merged our souls together so that I could escape a trap laid for us by the same people who arranged for your death. Before that happened, you told me that ‘both sides of time’ were open to me. And so, I’ve taken advantage of that fact, and have been trying to find the ideal path through the years that this part of my life covers. When I say ideal, what I mean is that it needs to lead to the least possible amount of bloodshed, the least heartache, and most importantly to me, keep the most of my loved ones alive.”

She scratched at her throat. In her mercenary days, she was extremely unused to talking for this long, so her throat had become sore after even that little bit of speaking. She’d have to get over it soon, what with teaching looming on the horizon. She gave Sothis a warm, if tired smile. “I know you have questions for me, but we need to cut this short so that I can save Edelgard. She’s the white-haired girl who has a fairly obvious crush on me. Strictly speaking, she doesn’t need my help, but this is how you and I first got into contact, so it’s kind of a tradition for me at this point. I’ll tell you absolutely everything that I know as we go. After all…” A curious look passed over her face, and her next words were but a whisper in the darkness. “After all… I need you, Sothis.”

\---

The lurching feeling returned as Sothis wound back time. She struck true, ripping the axe out of Kostas’ hands and sending him flying. It was always so dramatic, the way he flopped over onto his back before scurrying away. It made for an amusing distraction, and evidently she was not the only one who felt that way as Edelgard gave a soft chuckle next to her. Realizing that she’d let her mask slip to show some emotion, Edelgard quickly regained composure. Demurely, she gave a small bow to Byleth, refusing to meet her eyes.

“ _Poor thing. She really_ **_does_ ** _have it bad for you._ ” Sothis manifested herself off to Edelgard’s left, floating near to her and giggling like a schoolgirl. “ _I had wondered if perhaps you had been making that up for an ego boost_.” Byleth arched her eyebrow, but said nothing. Just then, Jeralt rode up, his usual easy pace very obviously pulled hastily over deep concern. “Hey… Did you just--”

Before he could interrogate his daughter over her lack of regard for her own safety any further, Alois and his underlings crashed through the treeline. Byleth had always liked Alois, even when she’d had to kill him. He was basically a brother to her, albeit a good bit older and only slightly wiser than she was supposed to have been by her age. His brown hair and odd mustache made for good contrast against the stark white of his armor, which she'd always harbored a suspicion was a pain in the ass to clean.

“The Knights of Seiros are here! We’ll cut you down for terrorizing our… Oh.” Alois paused in the middle of his triumphant entrance as he noticed that all the bandits, save Kostas, were lying dead on the ground. He cleared his throat. “Er, well. The students seem to be unharmed, at least. And… who’s this?”

Next to her, Jeralt slapped his forehead. “Ugh… Why _him_?” Byleth allowed herself a small chuckle at her father’s expense. Judging from the way his eyes snapped to her, she had been heard. She’d probably be hearing about how odd she was acting sooner than later now.

Alois, however, did not notice this silent exchange, as he only had eyes for her father at the moment. “Captain Jeralt?!” he boomed out incredulously. “Why, it _is_ you! Goodness, it’s been ages. Don’t you recognize me? It’s Alois! Your old right-hand man! Well… that’s how I always thought of myself anyway. Why, it must have been twenty years ago that you went missing without a trace. I always knew you were still alive!” He raised his arms triumphantly at his having been right.

Jeralt sighed. “You haven’t changed a bit, Alois. Just as _loud_ as ever.... And drop that ‘captain’ nonsense, I’m not your captain anymore. These days I’m just a wandering mercenary. One who has work to do. Goodbye, old friend.” He motioned for Byleth to go quickly before Alois could object, though she knew it was pointless.

Alois looked stricken. He quickly gathered himself, putting up as professional of a front as he was capable of. “Right… Goodbye, Captain.” Then, he stopped, and verve entered his voice. “Wait a minute, that isn’t how this ends! I _insist_ that you return to the monastery with me!” He flashed a winning smile to his old captain, who to his credit held in his grimace very well. Jeralt muttered darkly about the monastery, as Alois turned his attention to her. She knew how this would go from here - she’d give him some witty remark about being a bandit, he’d insist that they both come back with him, and the whole party would begin their journey toward Garreg Mach after Jeralt rounded up his company. She’d seen it hundreds of times by now.

That’s why the look of shock on Alois’ face caught Byleth completely off guard. Fear started to bloom in her chest as Alois looked at her like he’d seen a ghost. After glancing around as nonchalantly as she could, Byleth reluctantly met the older man’s gaze. Jeralt too had noticed the strangeness in Alois’ face, and walked his horse closer to Byleth.

“By the goddess above!” Alois began, apparently incapable of volume modulation even when things were going off the rails. “You look _so_ similar to… No, that's impossible. Ah, but, forgive me! Are you Captain Jeralt’s child?” His smile was back, but she could clearly see his eyes calculating and shifting between her and her father. He was clearly on edge, and his comment about her looking like someone else stuck out as particularly odd. She realized that she needed to say something back to him, and figured that a witty response like she would typically give would only make things more strained right now. Time for the Ashen Demon to show up.

“That is correct”, she deadpanned. Glancing at Jeralt, she noticed him nod. 

Alois ran a hand through his hair, leaning on his axe. “Well… Er, that is, physical differences aside, your mannerisms do remind me of the captain…” There was clearly more he wanted to say, but he held back. Sothis appeared over his shoulder, shooting Byleth a look of concern. Both to her and to Alois, Byleth simply nodded.

“Well, in that case, I would simply _love_ for you to see the monastery as well. You’ll join us?” Byleth nodded again, her mind turning Alois' words and actions over at a rapid pace, looking for something she felt like she should know. Jeralt let out a tremendous sigh, taking the attention off of her for a blessed moment.

“Ah, what’s troubling you, Captain? You’re not about to run off again, are you?” Alois’ smile returned in full force as he addressed his old mentor. Jeralt frowned, but said softly, “Even I wouldn’t dare run from the Knights of Seiros.”

\---

Things at the front of the column were confusing, so Byleth hung very far back, away from her father and Alois. While she would have appreciated Jeralt’s comforting presence right about now, something about Alois was making her skin itch. What did he know about her? Had memories of her having to strike him down in battle somehow reached him? Was her hair green already? She grabbed at it quickly, relieved to find it still dark blue.

She was absorbed in possibilities, and so did not notice as one after another, the three lords sidled up next to her. When she regained awareness of her surroundings, she found that they were all looking at her expectantly. She cleared her throat, and summoned up one of her old Ashen Demon smiles, where only the corners of her mouth would elevate. It was hard to switch between being fully emotive and being completely closed off, but she had gotten good at it with the sheer amount of practice she'd had.

Edelgard spoke first. “I appreciate your help back there with those bandits. Your skills are beyond question, truly. You’ve clearly experienced much as a mercenary. And your father…” She shifted her weight, eyes focusing intensely on Byleth’s, lilac on blue. “He is Jeralt, the legendary mercenary known as the Blade-Breaker, correct? Former captain of the Knights of Seiros. Perhaps the strongest knight to ever live. Have I missed anything?”

Byleth knew she needed to play ignorant about the Knights of Seiros, but she had long since stopped pretending she didn’t know her father was amazingly strong. Of any living being in Fodlan, Jeralt was probably one of the few who could have still given her any kind of challenge in battle. Not that it would ever come to that. She nodded in response, then put on the Ashen Demon’s information gathering face. “The Knights of Seiros? Yes, that loud man said something about them… I never knew he was their captain.”

Edelgard’s eyes narrowed. “How curious. I’d wager the explanation for that is _fascinating_ indeed.”

Claude chimed in next. He, blessedly, seemed to be staying on script, but his eyes never left her for a moment. They seemed unusually cold, but then, she had just come from a lifetime where she fought at his side through the war, so it was likely she'd just forgotten how guarded he could be. Nevertheless, she had a sneaking suspicion that he was going to be even more trouble than usual this time around. But thankfully, his sticking to how things normally went meant that the young lords were soon arguing, and Byleth let her mind empty as she sought out Sothis’ presence.

“ _I am here, little one. But tell me… What is going on? You seem shaken.”_ Sothis appeared before her, concerned etched on her small face.

“ _I am. Alois has never acted like that before. Edelgard and Claude also seem a little off. Things are… Things always go differently in subtle ways, but this is the first time in a long time that things have started to differ so early on. I’m slightly worried, but intrigued at the same time.”_

Byleth became vaguely aware that the royals had begun to proposition her for their countries’ service, and threw on a thoughtful look. This first choice was always an interesting one - from just this, things could be so much easier or harder, depending on which class she went to teach. She saw their expectant faces, and tried to give her answer in as neutral of a way as possible.

“Well, Dad is from Faerghus originally, but we work primarily in Adrestia and Leicester. I have no strong attachment to any one nation since we've moved around so much, but I suppose since Adrestia is where we met… perhaps fate is pulling me in that direction.” She looked at all three of them. Dimitri was obviously crestfallen (“ _You were right - he looks like a little puppy like that!_ ”, Sothis squealed in her mind), and Claude kept his emotions well hidden. Edelgard, however, was obviously happy, and began to gloat as much as decorum would allow her.

A booming voice pierced the early morning air. “Alright everyone, we’re nearly there!” Alois was back to being chipper and outgoing, which she regarded as a good sign. As their party crested a hill, she saw it once again - the grand spires of Garreg Mach monastery, nestled high atop the mountains, wrapped in the warm glow of the rising sun.

\---

Byleth, Jeralt, and Alois wound their way through the corridors of the monastery, heading for the back of the reception hall. She knew this part well - they would arrive, Alois would present them before Rhea and Seteth, her father and Rhea would stand there and lie pointedly at the other for several minutes, and Rhea would look at her like a particularly tasty piece of meat. Eventually they would be excused, and she would be informed of Rhea’s decision for her to teach one of the houses of the Officer's Academy. She began mulling her choice of house over already, since this was the single most impactful decision she could make this early on outside of regicide.

Alois returned to them a few minutes later, giving a wide smile. “It sounds like they’re excited to see you!” he boomed. Together, the three of them walked to the giant wooden doors set into the wall. Alois pounded his armored fist on one of the doors, and an ethereal voice rang out, saying “You may enter.” 

Alois went in first, followed by Jeralt, and Byleth brought up the rear. She was still lost in thought, but did her duty and looked up at Rhea and Seteth as Alois began his whole routine. The shock in their eyes, followed by _hunger_ in Rhea’s, chilled her to the bone. It seemed more intense than usual, a fact that heightened Byleth's nervousness.

Seteth found his voice first, after Alois bowed away. “Yes… Er… Hello, Jeralt. My name is Seteth. I serve as advisor to the Archbishop.” His eyes were focused on her, searching for something.

Jeralt returned his greeting more gruffly than usual, attempting to shield his daughter from their attention by rudeness.

Rhea tore her gaze at last off of Byleth to Jeralt. “It has been a long time, Jeralt… I wonder… Was it the will of the goddess that we all meet like this again?” She smiled serenely, but her smile did not reach her eyes. The room suddenly felt hot, the air oppressive.

Jeralt was a trooper, however, and showed no sign of concern. She would have to bring him some of that vile brew from Abyss as a thank you. “Forgive my silence all these years, Lady Rhea. Much has happened since we last… spoke.”

Rhea laughed, a musical sound that Byleth always found soothing despite what she knew about Rhea telling her to run from it. “So I see”, she said in a sweet tone. “And, the miracle of fatherhood has blessed you. This is your daughter here, yes?” She once again fixed Byleth with those eyes. Byleth felt a primal urge to run, to hide, anything she could to get away from those damned eyes. Every meeting with Rhea was uncomfortable to her, but it had never been _this_ bad before.

Jeralt coughed, and Rhea turned her eyes back to him. What an angel her father was. “Yes. Born many years after I left this place. I wish I could introduce you to her mother, but I’m afraid we… lost her, to illness.” There was a bite in his tone as he finished speaking.

Rhea did not rise to the bait laid before her. She folded her hands, and bowed her head sadly. “I see. You have my condolences. As for _you_ ”, she said as she turned to Byleth, “I heard of your valiant efforts from Alois. Tell me, child… What is your name?”

Her voice would not come. Byleth was, for once, stricken mute, her throat as dry as a desert. She tried desperately to find her voice but it simply would not come. Her instincts were screaming at her over and over - _something about this is wrong_.

Seteth, his familiar annoyance rising to the surface, chided her. “You must at least show the _basic_ courtesy of telling us your name, young mercenary. Do you not see your actions as being the least bit rude to the Archbishop?!”

Rhea turned to Seteth, waving a hand. “Peace, Seteth.” Returning to Byleth, but softening her gaze at long last, she spoke soothingly and softly. “Dear child, I am called Rhea. I am indeed the Archbishop of the Holy Church of Seiros, a position that affords me a great deal of knowledge. In truth, I was only being polite. I already know your name, young Byleth, and a fine name it is, indeed.”

Now it was Jeralt’s turn to be shocked. 

Rhea continued, ignoring the large man’s startled look. “From the bottom of my heart, I must thank you for coming to the rescue of students of this monastery’s Officer's Academy. You have done us a great service, and must be rewarded… properly.”

Jeralt sneered at this, earning him a withering glance from Seteth. Rhea, however, fixed him with her gaze once more.

“Jeralt. You already know what your reward is to be, do you not?”

Jeralt shifted his weight. “You want me to re-join the Knights of Seiros. I won’t say no, but…”

A shadow crossed Rhea’s face briefly. “Your apprehension stings, Jeralt. I had expected that Alois would have already spoken to you of this. However, I am afraid that the details of your re-appointment must wait until later.”

She smiled, something that chilled Byleth. “As for you, my dear child, I have a rather special appointment which I would like to make. To do this, however, we must bring in another member of the faculty here at Garreg Mach.”

Motioning to one of the guards flanking the doors to the audience chamber, Rhea then said something Byleth had never heard before. “Please fetch the Dean. I would like to introduce him to his newest professor.”

Byleth was unable to stop herself from blurting out “Dean?”, though if her look of confusion was out of place, it was nothing compared to the one on Seteth’s face.

“L-Lady Rhea! You cannot be serious! To appoint _any_ mercenary as a _professor_ at the Officer's Academy would be unheard of, but…” He trailed off, allowing himself to move from his ramrod straight posture to something more informal as he turned on the Archbishop.

“Peace, Seteth. All will be explained.” She fixed him with her eyes, warning him to be quiet. Seteth, for his part, obeyed the silent order.

The chamber was quiet for a moment, as Byleth’s mind raced at a mile a minute. Sothis appeared in front of her, clearly concerned as she whispered in her mind.

" _Little one… What is going on? You seem so agitated and upset._ ”

“ _I **am** , both of those things! This has never happened before! Garreg Mach has never had a dean before! It was always just Rhea and Seteth. Something has gone wrong. Perhaps we should turn back time already…_”

Her conversation with the goddess was interrupted, however, by a large THUD, as though someone had dropped a giant book on the stone floor of the audience chamber. She searched for the source of the noise, but did not have to look far to find it. 

Standing in the entrance, looking every bit as shocked as she was, stood an impossibility.

\---

“Sothis!” Byleth cried aloud. This caught Rhea and Seteth’s attention, but they had no opportunity to chastise her as time crashed to a halt. The diminutive goddess appeared before her, turning to look at the newcomer. 

He was taller than Byleth by nearly half a head. Dressed sharply in black, with a golden cape adorning his shoulders, the man might have cut an intimidating picture were it not for the look of abject shock on his face, all dignity gone. The book he had been carrying was on the ground, forgotten. His eyes - his eyes! They were...

“ _Your_ _eyes_ …” Sothis offered in a small voice. For indeed, Byleth knew exactly who this man was. It was _her_ , in the lifetimes when she had decided to try to find her path as a man. She had worn that form in her last lifetime, even. But how could she be staring at her male form here, now, as a separate person?

And why was he not also frozen in time?

The man closed his gaping mouth, looking from Byleth, to the frozen figures further into the room, to Byleth, _to Sothis_. Her stomach dropped out from under her as the realization settled in that he could see Sothis. Fighting the urge to scream, Byleth instead pulled her sword free from her belt, and charged at this interloper into her frozen time.

“ _Wait!_ ” 

A shock of green flew past her as Sothis rushed in front of Byleth. She threw her arms up, protecting the other, male Byleth. She looked scared. 

“ _Please don’t do this now! For one, I have no idea what will happen when time resumes if you’ve_ killed someone _. And for two…_ ” She turned in midair to stare at the man.

He found his voice at last, so familiar to Byleth and yet so _foreign_ as it came out of another’s mouth. “What… What is going ON here?!” He stepped back, looking for options.

It was a question that she had anticipated, as if she were still in any realm of her experience. To her surprise, he began charging a thunder spell in his hand. “I… I do not want to try to fight you, but this is all... “

“ _No!_ ” Sothis’ voice rang out, snapping both of them to attention. “ _No fighting! I do not know what has caused this, but we simply **must** talk through this. I shudder to think what impossibilities might occur if one of you harmed the other_.”

She had a point. Slowly, Byleth relaxed from her ready position, letting her sword drop down below her waist. The other one let his magic go, breathing shakily.

He shook his head. “What is going on?” He looked at her, pleadingly. She felt a pang of guilt for drawing steel on him. Byleth shook her head. “I… I don’t know. This has never happened before.”

The man looked puzzled. “‘Before’? What do you mean by that?”

“I… shit.” Byleth looked to Sothis for aid, but she was silent, pensive. Steeling herself, Byleth looked up at the man again, feeling agitation.

“Look. I’ll answer your questions, I will, but… First I need two things from you. One, you have to swear that _none_ of this will ever reach another soul. Not Rhea, not Seteth, no one. Things usually go _badly_ when I tell someone about this mess.” She stared at him, hard, until he nodded his assent. “And two… I need a name for you. I can’t call you ‘other me’, people would think I'd gone mad.”

He started to nod, but stopped, irritated. “Other you? What does that mean?” A stern look from Byleth shut him up, and he finally said in a small voice “My name is Bereth.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! This is my first foray into writing fanfiction - I usually just come up with stories in my head, and don't sit down to put them to paper. As such, constructive criticism is welcomed, as is any and all support. I've written three chapters at the time of publishing for chapter one, so those two will be going up shortly. I'm going to work on the rest off and on, but I'm afraid I don't have a super consistent schedule worked out. Hopefully the knowledge that someone might actually enjoy this will be the kick in the pants I need to focus. Also, please let me know if I should add any more tags - I'll probably just throw new ones in as I get to them if they aren't already covered, but I think this is a good first batch.
> 
> Also fair warning, I'm ignoring Cindered Shadows because I really don't like it, but I'll be pulling plot information from it as we go.
> 
> I went back and forth for a while on making the name for the twin character be something wildly different. My reasoning for not doing that basically boiled down to "twins are weird", but also allowed me to pull from the Ars Goetia again. Also I like the idea of them being able to call one another "By" and "Be" for short, which *will* be making an appearance further in, I guarantee. These first few chapters are going to go painfully slow on the actual calendar of Three Houses because we have a lot of ground to cover. Once we get the preliminary stuff out of the way, we'll start seeing how these two blue-haired idiots handle what Garreg Mach can throw at them.
> 
> Edited on 01/02/21 for consistency and quality.
> 
> Edited again on 03/03/21 for formatting and consistency, and to merge Chapters 1 and 2 because they were way too disjointed individually.


	2. A New Life at Garreg Mach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth and Bereth have a heart to heart, and Jeralt goes on Fodlani Maury.

Bereth sighed deeply. His mind was close to breaking. First, he found this strange woman who looks an awful lot like him, and a little green-haired floating girl, then they stopped time, and then she _threatened_ him… Now he could only pity her, and fear her in equal measure. She was still speaking, telling him a story about her crusade across time in “vague terms” to try to keep things simple. As if he needed or wanted simple. “ _I can’t believe I’m being talked down to by a_ **_mercenary_ ** _of all people"_ , he thought to himself.

Or at least, he had meant to.

Both the little girl and the woman, Byleth, shot him angry looks. The woman puffed up her chest, and started in on him. “Well, _excuse me_ for the circumstances of my life. Not everyone can be some fancy academic! _Pray forgive me_ , for daring to commit the sin of being a mercen--”

“W-wait!”, he interjected fearfully. “You _heard_ what I thought? But… that’s impossible!”

“ _So is bringing to a halt the hands of time, and yet you stand within its effect._ ” Now he was being chided by a little girl, how wonderful… While it annoyed him to admit, she _had_ a point. And green hair. And long, pointed ears. What in the world _was_ she?

A look that a braver man might describe as “pouting” crossed the girl’s face, and she huffed at him. “ _For your information, I am your goddess! How dare you talk about me like I’m some… child! Phooey!_ ”

Now he knew he must be dreaming. That was the only explanation. The goddess herself was a tiny, irascible child, and was protecting… whoever this woman was. Right. And he was a six-winged dragon that breathed candies and taught children to fly.

“ _I do not appreciate the tone your thoughts are taking about me_ ”, she said, an edge creeping into her voice. “ _If stopping time was not enough to prove my divinity to you then perhaps my name will be. I am Sothis, and I am also called the Beginning_.”

Bereth’s heart skipped a beat.

\---

Byleth had watched Sothis growing more and more angry with this “Bereth” silently, but at the sheer terror on his face as she revealed her name to him, she couldn’t help but laugh. She laughed like few other things in her life had ever caused her to, with tears forming at the corners of her eyes. Sothis and Bereth exchanged glances, and the former floated over toward Byleth.

“ _Having fun, are we?_ ” Sothis was only a little bothered by the laughter, though, and quickly joined Byleth, albeit more quietly.

Wiping her face, she finally stopped laughing, and looked over at… him. It shouldn’t be possible for them to both exist, and yet they did. _Somehow_ , the world had broken, and now there was another instance of her running around, male, and clueless. And annoying. She needed answers, but standing in the audience chamber in stopped time was not the place for it. She needed a chair, and perhaps a drink or two.

“Alright. We’re going to wind back time a little. I don’t exactly fancy getting an earful from Seteth or Rhea about ‘taking the name of the goddess lightly’ because I yelled earlier. If my suspicions are correct, you’ll remember everything that’s happened here. And then, we can find a place to talk, seriously, about what this is, and who you are. You already know what I’m here for, but I know _nothing_ about you. I hate not knowing things.” She looked at Bereth expectantly, waiting for confirmation.

Finally, slowly, he nodded. “I suppose that is fine. Although my past is a bit… Complicated. I will share what I know, but please understand that there is much that is a mystery to me.”

The familiar lurching sensation washed over her as Sothis moved time back to before her outburst, and she took her place next to Jeralt as time resumed.

The whole room was now looking expectantly at Bereth. To his credit, he was sharper than he looked, bending down to retrieve his fallen book and enter a passable bow at the same time. “Ah, my sincere apologies Lady Rhea, honored guests. This tome is rather heavy, and I was never blessed with much physical aptitude.” He even smiled at them. 

Byleth smiled herself, too. So far so good. She glanced at Rhea and Seteth, who were exchanging a meaningful, conspiratorial look. Good. They were at least acting how she expected. Her eyes slid back toward Bereth, passing over Jeralt. 

_"Oh no_."

Jeralt looked as though someone had punched him in the stomach. He was not bothering to conceal his shock and alarm, and he looked Byleth in the eyes, desperately searching for something. She reached out and touched his arm. This snapped him from his reverie, and he began to regain composure.

Rhea, never one to let opportunities slip her by, pounced on his emotional state. “My, Jeralt. While I admit to some level of trepidation at the sudden noise, you seem to be faring much worse than the rest of us. I would like to request that you speak with our resident physician, Manuela Casagranda, in the next week, as your schedules allow. Injuries of the mind are as serious as those of the body, and it would not do to have my knight-captain injured. I trust I am understood?”

Silently cursing, Byleth watched her father. He closed his eyes and sighed deeply, before looking at Rhea. “Of course. If you think that’s needed, I’ll check in with her.”

Rhea smiled, content in a small victory over Jeralt. “I do. But now, to business again.”

Turning to face Byleth once more, Rhea raised an arm, gesturing to the door. “This, child, is the Dean of Academic Affairs at Garreg Mach. He oversees the Officer’s Academy, in addition to Seteth and myself. His name is Bereth. You will report to him as your direct supervisor, and to the two of us on a monthly basis.”

Byleth slid the Ashen Demon’s mask back on as best she could before answering. She couldn’t appear _too_ eager, or else Rhea would suspect something was going on. Gathering herself, she responded in a neutral tone. “Of course. I will see to it that it is done.”

Rhea nodded, then turned her eyes on Bereth. “My d- That is, Dean Bereth. Would you kindly show Professor Byleth to your office? I’m sure that the two of you have much to talk about.” She smiled, reveling in the pageantry on display before her.

Bereth, again, was on top of things. “At once, Your Grace. Professor, if you would follow me?” He turned his body halfway, waiting for her.

Byleth gave her father’s arm a final squeeze, earning her one of _those_ looks, the kind of look that said "we’re definitely having words about this, and soon”. She remembered her decorum, though, and briefly bowed to Rhea before departing. She followed Bereth closely, curious where his office would be. While she could not claim to have explored _every_ nook and cranny of the second floor of Garreg Mach’s main administrative building after finding a hidden staircase as little as two lifetimes ago, she was at least fairly certain that there were no offices that were empty.

The two of them walked in silence toward the library, brushing past the Agarthan masquerading as the kindly librarian, Tomas. Bereth gave him a cheery greeting, and Byleth shot him daggers with her eyes. She had, in other lifetimes, tried to kill him before he kidnapped Flayn and caused the calamity in Remire, but she had never been able to find a way to make his death unnoticeable. She resolved silently to work on that project this time, since everything had long since gone out of her realm of expertise anyway.

They entered into a cramped office space just off the library that Byleth could have sworn wasn’t there in her previous lifetimes. Once inside, Bereth pulled the door shut behind them, before casting a spell Byleth had never seen before. She shot him a quizzical look, and he responded “Ah, right, sorry. Lady Rhea has given me an incredible volume of materials on magical constructive theory, to the point where I often alter existing spells, or create new ones for my own purposes. That was a modified version of the Silence spell that, rather than attacking a target’s ability to speak and incant, instead blocks a target’s ability to hear. When used on inanimate objects, such as a door or walls, it renders a room eavesdrop-proof. Which is something that I expect you will want…” He trailed off, clearly uncomfortable despite being in what was ostensibly his space.

She smiled to attempt to set him at ease, but it didn’t work. Shrugging, she decided that it would be better to push ahead. “Well, first things first, I want you to teach me that spell. How useful it would have been…” She shook her head, wistfully.

He nodded, settling into a worn chair behind a plain oaken desk. His desk was a maelstrom of clutter, and for a moment she had an urge to go looking for lost items in all of it. Perhaps later in the year.

Bereth offered her a chair, and as she sat down, he turned to grab a bottle and two glasses. “Drink? I’m afraid it’s pretty potent stuff, but it’s all I have on hand… And I imagine this conversation is going to go places.” Without further ado, he poured, and drained his glass almost immediately. 

Byleth had to stifle a laugh. When Bereth looked up curiously, she waved her hand, saying “Oh, I just… You reminded me of someone else for a moment.”

They sat in silence, neither one wanting to start.

Then, Bereth found his voice. “I don’t know what is going on. I think the more I learn the more frightened I’ll become. But we do have business to attend to, first.” He straightened in his chair, trying to look official. “You have been given an unprecedented offer to join the elite ranks here at the Officer’s Academy of Garreg Mach as an instructor to the young minds who will one day rule this continent. It is not something that you should take--”

“Black Eagles.” Byleth took a swig of her drink, wincing slightly at the burn. Bereth went pale as a ghost. He began to stammer, something about flippancy and honor that she couldn’t bring herself to care about.

Finally, she put a hand up. “I’ve made my choice, and need I remind you… I’ve made this choice many, many times before. I know what I’m doing. I’m well aware of the responsibility I’m taking on.” As if to punctuate this, Sothis materialized off to her right, at which Bereth gave a small whimper. “Even more than you are.”

Finishing her drink, Byleth reclined back in her chair. “And yet… Now, fate has thrown in a variable I never encountered before. Like I said earlier, I don’t like not knowing things. But…” She paused, a thoughtful look on her face. “Well, I can tell you have questions too. I know how frustrating it is when people at this monastery never answer your damn questions, and just ask questions of you. So I’ll make you a deal. Let’s play a little game. I ask one question, you answer, you ask one question, I answer. We’ll go round robin like that until, say…” She glanced up at Sothis, thinking deeply. “Three o’clock. Then I need to go find Dad. Deal?”

She reached out her hand.

\---

Bereth was nervous. Here he was, in _his_ office, about to be interrogated by his newest professor. She was incredibly obstinate, and the floating girl… He shuddered a little. It was better not to think too hard about the implications of the floating girl. Still… He did want answers, and she had an air of knowledge about her, whether her claims were true or not. She would know things, things that Rhea had never told him. It was worth a chance. It had to be.

He took her hand.

Her face, which had been nearly lifeless before, broke into a wide smile. Unable to withstand his confusion, he blurted out “How do you do that?”

She arched an eyebrow, then laughed. “Oh, right, the mask. Sorry about that.” Mask? She was wearing no mask, he would have seen it. Not like that _Jeritza_ fellow. House Hrym had been so insistent about recommending him for a professorship, but he rubbed Bereth wrong. Who wears a mask in day to day life?

Byleth, to her credit, did not ask about his thoughts. Instead, she launched into an explanation. “It’s a relic from my life before I started all this. You might have heard my nickname before - I’m known as the Ashen Demon, for how I kill on the battlefield ‘without a hint of emotion’. I'm not that person anymore, and haven’t been for a while, but people aren’t really ready to see that side of me immediately at the start of term. I’ve had lots of time to practice, and now it’s easy to bring that façade back up when necessary. I can normally start to relax some before the Battle of the Eagle and Lion.” Smirking, she added “So that’s your first question answered. My turn.”

Oh dear. 

With as much dignity as he could muster, he nodded. 

“I want to know about your family of origin. Parents, siblings, important people… That sort of thing.” Byleth, to her credit, at least attempted to consider what her question should be. But it was obvious to him that this had been in the forefront of her mind since she first laid eyes on him. He sighed.

“Well… As I said before in… in the audience chamber,” - he refused to think about how time had been stopped at the moment - “I know precious little about my family. At least, my family proper. My parents are both dead, and I have no siblings. I was born here at Garreg Mach, to a young nun. My father, a knight, had swept her off her feet and into a whirlwind marriage, but she was frail her entire life, and her body could not handle the strain of childbirth. Shortly thereafter, the Great Fire of 1159 broke out, damaging much of the monastery grounds, and claiming several lives. My father died in that fire. I was raised as an orphan in service to the church, and Lady Rhea herself took interest in me. I would count her as a person of great importance to me. In fact…” He smiled, warmth spreading throughout him.

“Lady Rhea once told me she thinks of _me_ as family. Can you imagine? But it’s the truth! She said that my mother was very close to her, and as such, she considered me family, for my mother’s sake.” He smiled to himself, lost in memories.

He looked up at Byleth, expecting to see her smile at his heartwarming tale. Instead, she was scowling. Sothis looked down at her, worry evident on her face.

“I… see.”

She looked pensive for a moment, then shot her hand across his desk at high speed, grabbing at the front of his robes. In a panic, he cried out, but fell silent at the dark look on her face.

“W-what are you doing?!” he squeaked out. The fear on his face must finally have registered, as she instantly drew her face back to neutral, though she still had an iron grip on him. “ _My, but she is quite strong…"_

Sothis nodded at him, and with a pang he remembered that she could hear his thoughts. He turned red with embarrassment. Byleth, mercifully, did not comment.

After a few moments of grasping him, she let him go, evidently satisfied. Indignant at this manhandling, Bereth nearly shouted out “And just _what_ was that?” before thinking better of potentially upsetting his rather unstable new professor.

He did not need to ask for answers, though, as she simply proffered “I had to check something.”

Nonplussed, he leaned back into his chair. Now to think of a question… It occurred to him that she reacted to him over his explanation of his family. Perhaps a bit of turnabout…

“Well, I believe it is my turn, then, Professor. I wish to ask the same question.” He folded his arms in an attempt to look intimidating.

To her credit, Byleth was not completely without tact. She merely raised an eyebrow at his display. Then, she grabbed his hand. “ _What is it with this woman and personal space?!_ ”

“I’m going to put your hand on my heart. Don’t read too much into the gesture. Tell me what you feel.” She pulled his arm forward, placing a hand beneath the medallion she wore pinned to her chest and held it there in her iron grip. He felt his face start burning, and began frantically looking to see if anyone could see them, despite being securely in his windowless office. Oh, if Lady Rhea caught him like this… She would be so disappointed in him.

After a moment or two more of consternation, he piped up. “Professor, please, I do not understand what the point of this is, but I feel very uncomfortable!” She huffed, and asked him slowly “Tell me what you feel. With your hand.” Out of embarrassment more than anything else, he shouted “I - I feel nothing, Professor! Please, I don’t wish to feel anything right now!”

Understanding dawned on her face, and her cheeks took on a dusting of pink. “I… I didn’t mean like that, you damn fool. I meant my heartbeat.” Her heartbeat? What of it?

Then, with a start, he realized that her heart was _not_ _beating_.

She finally released his hand, and he retracted it slowly, considering the implications of what he had just realized. But she started speaking before he could. “The reason I did that, and the reason I checked your own heartbeat before, was to confirm something. You see… My mother was also a nun of Garreg Mach, who was also reportedly frail all her life. She also fell in love with a knight, and also officially died in childbirth. Her name was Sitri. I’m told she was very beautiful.”

He gasped. For a moment, Bereth’s mind was completely blank. And then - “But… But that was--”

“ _Your_ mother’s name, right?” Bereth nodded slowly, and Byleth smiled to herself in satisfaction. "The only possible conclusion is that, somehow, my meddling with time has caused… this. You and I are twins.”

He sat there in stunned silence for a while. It made logical sense, if all that she said was true. And while he could certainly think of reasons she might have to lie to him, there was certainly something compelling to what she was saying… There was nothing for it. They needed to find Jeralt.

\---

As the two of them made their way down the halls towards the knight-captain’s office, Byleth’s mind raced with the implications of their discussion. She could not afford to let this new, unexpected addition to the world get in the way of her objective, and yet… 

Sothis appeared before her, floating along with a knowing smile. “ _And yet, you feel positively about having a brother. Even if it does complicate things for us.”_ At last, Byleth too smiled, for Sothis was right, of course. Sothis was usually right.

The trio reached Jeralt’s office, pausing briefly before the door to consider what they were about to do. Byleth glanced over at Bereth, who returned her gaze. “Well…” he swallowed. “Shall we go in?”

As they entered, Jeralt hurriedly stuffed something into his desk drawer. “ _Ah, that will be the diary. I wonder what he's writing today..."_ , Sothis mused. Byleth nodded, though to Jeralt it would have looked like a silent greeting.

His eyes widened and narrowed in succession at the sight of both of them standing together. Bereth shut the door behind them, and began casting his Muffling spell. Sothis floated in front of Byleth, a curious look on her face. 

“ _What?”_ , she asked silently. Sothis gave a little giggle, then said “ _Please use my joke. I believe your father would appreciate the humor._ ” She sighed. Sothis was _usually_ right, but not always.

“Hey, kid. What’s going on? And… what’s with him?” Jeralt’s eyes watched Bereth like a hawk as he finished his spell. He realized the scrutiny he was under, and gave a quick bow.

“Ah, my apologies for not giving you a chance to object first. I was simply applying a spell that will prevent eavesdropping. Please forgive my rudeness.” He looked up at the older man sheepishly, and Byleth could tell that a war was raging in Jeralt’s mind. Evidently, the side that wanted answers won, and Jeralt sat down on one of the couches, motioning for Byleth and Bereth to sit as well.

“Kid?” Jeralt’s voice was hesitant. He must have expected what was coming on some level, but she still felt awkward about just dumping everything she had learned on him. She looked at Bereth to see if he had any ideas, and was surprised to see him begin speaking.

“I… understand that what we’re about to speak of will likely be difficult for you to understand, but, well… In my office just now, the two of us, ah, compared notes, so to speak. Professor Byleth was curious about my life, and in our conversation, we came to a realization. One which… er, well… It’s actually rather difficult to just come out and say…” He began stammering as he lost the head of steam he’d built up.

Byleth put a hand on his shoulder, then spoke up. “We have the exact same story about our parents and our births, except he believed that his father died in a certain fire in the monastery. His mother’s name was Sitri. I don’t need to spell out what that means, do I, Dad?”

Jeralt’s face drained of color as he processed what he’d heard. Then, slowly, he spoke. “I… Goddess, I haven’t heard anyone say her name in so long. Sitri… Sitri was really your mother, kid?” He turned toward Bereth, eyes raking over his features, searching.

Bereth rubbed the back of his head, and sighed. “Yes, sir. Sitri was my mother, and my father was a knight serving the monastery. After talking with Byleth… We believe that we were born as twins, and separated at birth. Meaning…” He fidgeted, nervous.

“Meaning, Bereth here is my brother. And your son.” Byleth finished.

Jeralt turned his flask up.

\---

Jeralt couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this tired. For the past couple decades or so, he’d been holding in a breath. Keeping Byleth away from Garreg Mach and away from Rhea had been an all-consuming priority. He’d never once let his guard down, always kept the company away from central Fodlan, never so much as went _near_ a chapel if he could avoid it… Hell, he’d changed the entire way he lived his life. All for her. And he’d have done it again in a heartbeat. Then, a chance encounter ruins all his carefully-made plans, and not only is he back under Rhea’s thumb, not only was poor Byleth trapped in this mess with him, but now… There was another one.

Images of Sitri flooded his mind. How her nose would turn up slightly when she laughed. The warmth of her hands. That strange, unearthly aroma in her hair. 

He sighed, looking back at Byleth and… and him. A son. His son. _Their son_. He was so tired. How did Rhea hide him from him? How did she know that he would react badly to this? Did she already know then what he was going to do with Byleth? Did he play right into her hands? If there was one thing that he knew for sure in that moment, it was that coming back to this cursed monastery was going to be the death of him.

Multiple times throughout their weaseling, unfocused explanation, he’d watched as Byleth and Bereth would pause, look thoughtfully at the middle distance, and then let the other speak. “ _Is this weird… twin shit?_ ” he mused, grimacing at the thought. He couldn’t decide what bothered him more at the moment - that he’d failed Byleth, and hadn’t been able to keep her safe; that Byleth was acting bizarrely _normal_ since arriving at the monastery, and trying to hide it; that Sitri had had another child, one that he’d, intention notwithstanding, abandoned to Rhea’s clutches; or that Byleth had been lying, unconvincingly, this entire time. He knew damn well he’d never talked to her about Sitri before. Was he a bad father for it? Probably. But he’d always figured it was better to be safe out in the world than here, where Rhea could have shaped her like she’d undoubtedly done to Bereth.

He shook his flask, pissed at the lack of drink in it, pissed at Garreg Mach, pissed at Rhea… Pissed at himself for slipping up.

He noticed the two of them start to get up, and held up his hand. Byleth looked back instantly, falling into their practiced nonverbal cues from their mercenary work. The other one, Bereth, looked confused, but stuck around anyway. “ _At least he’s got some sense in his head._ ”

Jeralt hated confronting her like this, but he knew he had to do it. Steeling himself, he took a deep breath. “Look… Kid… By. I know there’s more going on here than you’re willing to say. I don’t know how you learned about half of this shit anyway, and right now, I guess that doesn’t really matter. For now, at least, you need to be absolutely positive that Rhea _does not find out_ that you know who your mother is, or that you two know you’re… related. I don’t know what the hell her game is, here, but I kept you away from here for good reason. Please just… be careful.”

He should have been relieved to see her nod in agreement, but as he watched her and her new brother leave his office, he let out a long, low noise that had died halfway between a sigh and a growl. Jeralt was by no means a religious man, having been on the run from the church for a few decades, but for some reason, maybe nostalgia, he couldn’t help wanting to send off a little prayer. Not to the goddess - she probably didn’t give a rat’s ass about him, and evidently didn’t care about his daughter. But… since he was back here again…

“ _Please, Sitri… Keep her safe._ ” 

“ _...and forgive me for the other one, too._ ”

\---

Walking down the hall back toward the stairs to the ground floor, Byleth found herself feeling guilty. One of her cardinal rules had been that she _never_ lied to Jeralt if she could help it. She hadn’t broken that rule, but she’d stepped as close to the line between truth and falsehood as she had ever been several times. It burned her up inside - she _wanted_ to tell him the truth, to tell him everything. But she didn’t.

“ _For what it’s worth, I think you made the right decision._ ” Sothis had settled in between the two of them, and she started to pat Byleth’s arm, before remembering that she was incorporeal. “ _Things have already gotten wildly out of hand from what you told me a typical lifetime is like, and you yourself said that things have a tendency to get worse when you try to explain everything to someone.”_

Sothis was right, of course, but that didn’t make the weight in the bottom of her stomach feel any less heavy.

“Well… Look at it this way,” Bereth offered. “You haven’t told me everything either, but you’ve told me quite a lot that I imagine I’m not supposed to know, even without specific details. I am… that is to say, we are family, and I do not mind not knowing everything you know right now. I feel as though I can trust you, and that is good enough for me. I can only imagine that, er, Father… Captain Jeralt, that is, feels the same way.” He nodded emphatically as if to punctuate his point.

Byleth said nothing. They were both probably right, but right now she didn’t want to hear it. 

The three of them walked in silence towards the familiar halls of the Officer’s Academy. Since she had already chosen a house, Byleth didn’t need to go through the song and dance of talking with the other class leaders, so she could finally get back to her room and start planning. Bereth, however, motioned Edelgard, Dimitri, and Claude over, and put on a warm, practiced smile even as Byleth shot him a questioning look.

“Ah, hello there Your Highnesses,” he began, nodding to each lord in turn. “I have heard news of the events of the past day, and offer praise to the Goddess that you have all returned to us unscathed.”

Sothis, for her part, was very amused. “ _Well, yes, I suppose I was rather instrumental in it all, wasn’t I?_ ”, she crowed, far too pleased with herself. Byleth would have swatted at her, had they been in private.

“I did wish, however, to extend a formal introduction. I am told that the three of you have already met Byleth Eisner. She and her father are both joining the staff here at the monastery, and in particular…” Bereth paused for effect, a strange gleam coming into his eye. “In accordance with the counsel and wishes of Her Grace Archbishop Rhea, Dame Eisner has been given a teaching position here at the Officer’s Academy. She will be heading up the Black Eagle house, as they currently lack a full-time professor.”

Byleth’s eyes flickered over each of them in turn. Dimitri was saddened, Claude looked just as inscrutable as always, and Edelgard had a look halfway between the brightness of triumph and the wariness with which she knew Edelgard conducted her daily business. There was always a hint of something more in both her eyes and Claude’s, something that had unsettled her in her first few lifetimes. She had been so paranoid that Edelgard would suddenly look at her with anger, brandishing her axe at Byleth far too early, though ultimately nothing came of those fears. No one had ever managed to remember things from previous lifetimes, not even Sothis. Still… Paranoia was difficult to manage. Frowning, she forced her mind back to the present moment with the house leaders.

“Well, that’s a shame. Here I was hoping my natural charms would have won you over, Teach!” Claude said, with less sarcasm than she’d expected. Perhaps Bereth was some sort of good behavior charm? “I just hope that we can see more of each other, in a strictly professional sort of way, of course.” He winked at her unsubtly. 

“Indeed,” Dimitri chimed in. “While it saddens me to think that my class will not have the opportunity to learn from someone with such a unique perspective, I nevertheless wish you the best of luck.” He bowed, acting out that stiff, chest-pounding bow all Faerghan nobles did.

Edelgard considered her words more carefully than the other two. “I am grateful to learn of this appointment, Dean Bereth. Here’s hoping that our partnership with Professor Eisner will be a fruitful one.”

Bereth cleared his throat. “Yes, well, now that I have conveyed this news to you, I would like to request that you inform your classmates of this new appointment, Princess Edelgard. Your classes will resume under Professor Eisner tomorrow morning at nine bells, and it would not do for a house leader to be lax in their duties so early on in the year. In the meantime,” he said, turning to Byleth, “I will conduct Professor Eisner to her quarters. Good day to you all.”

Unthinking, Byleth blurted out “Oh, no, that’s alright, I know where my-- er, um… that is, thank you, Dean Bereth. I appreciate your guidance.” Claude, Bereth, and Edelgard all cocked an eyebrow in her direction at this, but Byleth simply gave a stiff bow and began walking toward the dormitories, silently willing Bereth to follow.

Catching up to her, he whispered frantically into her ear, “I thought you knew what you were doing!”

Indignant and embarrassed, Byleth stammered a little, before getting out, “Look, in my defense, it’s usually Seteth giving me the tour of the grounds. If you tried being more dour and boring, I’d be fine.” She shot Bereth an unkind look, but was taken aback when he appeared stricken by it.

“I… Of course. I’m so sorry, this must be so confusing compared to what you’re used to. I really didn’t mean to mess you up. I just hope none of them make a fuss about that comment…” Bereth’s eyes darkened, clearly envisioning some worst-case scenario.

She put a hand on his shoulder as they got to her room. “Hey, don’t worry… I’ve always been odd, in every single one of my lifetimes. I’ve found that even the most inquisitive students never really bother with unraveling my idiosyncrasies if I have enough of them.” She smiled, trying to project confidence that she didn’t have, before letting a yawn escape. 

“Oh, oh dear… I’m sorry, you must be simply _exhausted_ after the day you’ve had.” Bereth’s eyes were full of concern. It made Byleth feel a little uncomfortable to be looked at in such a way, but she could not exactly deny how weary she felt.

“Get some rest, please. You’ve got a full day in the morning, and even though I know you’ve said you’ve done this time and again, you’re still human, and humans need rest.” He nodded along with what he was saying, then paused. Looking up at her fearfully, he squeaked out: “You, er… are, human, aren’t you?”

Byleth laughed softly at this, and after assuring her new brother that she was in fact human (little divine passengers notwithstanding), Byleth laid down for a well-deserved rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Jeralt. He's going to take it in stride, and he'll end up loving Bereth just as much as Byleth soon, but the man's had a hard day.
> 
> Sothis suggested they announce it by saying "It's a boy!", and is probably very lucky she's incorporeal and thus can't be smacked for making a terrible joke in a difficult situation.
> 
> Edited on 01/02/21 for consistency and quality.
> 
> Edited again on 03/05/21 for formatting and consistency. I also folded in part of the former chapter "School Daze" to properly beef up this chapter. The rest of "School Daze" has been subsumed into "Blossoming Trust", unless you manage to come in right while I'm editing. If you manage to do that, I apologize for the weirdness.


	3. Blossoming Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth is bad at being subtle and meets the Eagles, Edelgard feels things, and Claude acts a little suspicious out of the gate.

**\- 21st of the Great Tree Moon, Imperial Year 1180 -**

Byleth woke up slowly. The early morning hours were little moments of peace before diving into the storm of yet another attempt to save everyone. She sighed, and stretched her limbs languidly, before stopping as her hand met a heavy chill. She’d brushed against Sothis’ sleeping form so many times that the familiar icy cold pressure was comforting, rather than distressing. She was unsure of when Sothis had decided that she would try to become as corporeal as she could to sleep next to her, but it always brought Byleth an unspeakable comfort. Loathe to ruin the moment, Byleth got up as gently as she could.

It was well before the crack of dawn, and Byleth was ready and waiting for her familiar weekday routine. First things first, she needed a bath. The grime of the road suited her fine as a mercenary, but she'd be teaching nobles in a scant few hours, and first impressions were key. At this early hour, the bathhouses would be deserted, so she decided to bring along her notebook. Sothis stirred, and looked up bleary-eyed at her. “ _Ah… Hello, little one. Morning already?_ ”

Byleth smiled. “Yes. It’s time to face destiny again… Would you join me? I want to get a little planning in while I get ready this morning.”

Sothis rose up off the bed, though she did not stop reclining. A smirk played across her small face. “ _Well, I suppose it wouldn’t be right to just let you wander around the monastery by yourself. Whatever would you do without me, hmm?”_

Byleth stole across the grounds of Garreg Mach like a thief, her many lifetimes’ worth of knowledge guiding her to make no wasted movements. In short order, she’d reached the bathhouses, and soon she was submerged in warm water, letting her aches and pains fade from her. She scrubbed up, and when she was ready to get out, she grabbed her notebook, clinging to the warmth of the baths for a little longer.

She frowned, feather quill raised. How best to go about this..? After brief thought, she decided on a less secure, but more manageable method of planning out how this lifetime would play out. She briefly sketched out the events leading to the war:

  * The first mock battle
  * The assault on Kostas’ group at Zanado
  * _Lord Lonato’s rebellion*_
  * The attack on the Holy Mausoleum
  * The Miklan incident
  * _Flayn’s kidnapping*_
  * The Battle of the Eagle and Lion
  * _The Remire calamity*_
  * Jeralt’s death*
  * Apotheosis in the Sealed Forest
  * The battle in the Holy Tomb
  * The Battle of Garreg Mach
  * Five year sleep



There wasn’t even a whole year for her efforts, so she had no time to waste. As usual, she emphasized a few major events as ones that she wanted to try to truly alter the outcome of. If she could make good on any of them, it would be a great help. If she could do all of them… She tried not to think about what a miracle it would be, because it just was not likely. Those Who Slither in the Dark were not in the business of giving up ground easily. Then again, Byleth Eisner was not a woman easily deterred from her goals.

Satisfied with this brief overview of the next ten months, she then turned to the grim part of her initial planning sessions. Sothis gave her a warm look, bracing her heart against the darkness she was inviting in. She began a second list, this time of acceptable casualties.

  * Kostas
  * Miklan
  * Metodey
  * Solon
  * Kronya
  * Thales
  * Cornelia
  * Any Agarthan who fights back



The usual cast of suspects was here: all those wretched Agarthans who had made life miserable for her and for so many others must die. That was a given. Miklan was also more or less a foregone conclusion. She’d tried to save him before, but it was just too much trouble for no real payoff. Miklan was a brute, even if a pitiable one, and she tried to convince herself that putting him down was the compassionate choice for all involved. Metodey was Thales' plant in Edelgard's retinue for the assault on the Holy Tomb, and besides that, he was a little shit. Lonato she would try to spare, and while she had no intention of sparing Kostas, she was going to at least try to get a public confession from him before his death. Shaking Edelgard’s confidence as the Flame Emperor early on would be key in limiting the damage she could do to Dimitri, which in turn was key in limiting the number of casualties the Blue Lions were likely to take.

Musing, she tapped the quill to her chin, oblivious to the ink spots being daubed onto her formerly-clean face. There was, of course, one more name. She knew that it was for the best if she just got it over with and wrote it down, decided that was that… and yet. Some small part of her still dreamed of an impossible future, where Rhea never fought them to the death, where her choosing Edelgard didn’t lead to that horrific battle in the flames of Fhirdiad. Grimacing, she decided to write her in with an asterisk. As if that little mark could truly mean salvation.

She sighed deeply, already somewhat drained. Perhaps a little while longer in the baths would help rejuvenate her…

The sound of footfalls and a soft splash alerted her to a new presence in the baths, and she made to wrap a towel around herself so she could hide her notebook easier. Peering around for the source, she was surprised to see a shock of pink hair wading up to her in the bath. “Hilda?!”, she cried out, more than a little shocked to see the layabout Goneril girl up with the sun.

Hilda giggled, wading closer and closer towards her. “Ahhh, that’s right! Claude _said_ there was a new professor here. Didn’t realize it was somebody our age this time… and so cute!” She offered a wet hand, which Byleth took warily. “Hilda Valentine Goneril, but it sounds like you already knew that, huh?”

Shit. If Claude had convinced Hilda to do a little tradecraft for him, knowing Hilda’s name before she introduced herself was a certain red flag. 

Switching to damage control mode, she started lying like her life depended on it. “Right, sorry. When I met with Dean Bereth yesterday, he spent a good bit of time going over the roster with me. Evidently my having been assigned to the Black Eagles didn’t tamper his enthusiasm at all.” Frantically, in her mind, Byleth called out to Sothis: “ _I need you to go tell Bereth to lie and say we did everything I just said if anyone asks him, on the double!”_. Sothis, as expected, was more than willing to help her, her soothing voice soft and low. _“Okay, little one. I’ll be back shortly. Be cautious.”_

If Hilda didn’t buy it, she wasn’t showing it on her face. “Hmmmm, yeah, that sure sounds like that Dean alright. What a busybody. I could _never_ be that much of a people pleaser. Oh-”, she broke off, finally noticing the ink on Byleth’s chin. “It looks like you missed a spot. Wouldn’t want you to walk into your first day of classes looking dirty, would ya? Let me help wash you up!”

Realizing that this situation was rapidly spiraling out of her control, Byleth got out, her notebook, quill, and inkpot desperately clutched against her under her towel. “That’s alright, Hilda. I actually just remembered,” as the Garreg Mach bells _blessedly_ chimed for seven o’clock, “that I promised I’d go meet my father for breakfast at seven. He’s a bit of a worrier, and since it’s my first day on the job and all...” She tried to affect a sheepish look, as if she could _ever_ be embarrassed and unwanting of her father’s attention.

Hilda either bought that, or decided it was too obvious of a play to get out and follow her so soon after getting in, and Byleth was able to scurry off, finding herself in front of the knight-captain’s office. “ _Great. I’m sure an unannounced visit at seven in the morning is going to make Dad really calm,”_ she thought bitterly, but a cover was a cover. As she raised her fist to knock, the door opened from the inside, and she found herself staring at her father. “Uh… Hey, Dad. Remember you wanted to go to breakfast, like we’d talked about yesterday?” Her eyes flashed, and while she didn’t _think_ she was still under observation, she had to be sure.

Jeralt took it in stride. “Of course, kid. I’m glad we got to do this before your big day.” He gave her a clap on the shoulder, and a look that told her “ _We’re talking about this later_ ”. She sighed. She was racking up a lot of those looks this lifetime.

\---

Walking out of the dining hall, Byleth felt buoyed. Her father’s presence always reassured her, even when she was _technically_ using him as cover to disguise her time traveling mission. She made another mental note to pop down to Abyss to find the horrible liquor she knew he liked as a thank-you. Halfway through breakfast, they had been joined by Bereth, who evidently was having a somewhat difficult time grasping the concept of not treating Byleth and Jeralt like family in public. She was annoyed, but underneath her annoyance there was something… warm. 

She decided that she might be able to enjoy having a brother, even if he was an idiot. And of course, having a brother who was willing to aid her in her mission, and moreover could hear and communicate with Sothis just like she could? What more could she have asked for?

“ _Tact”_ , she thought ruefully, as Bereth insisted on going to class with her for her first day. She heard Sothis giggle, but did not want to try to chastise her when the all-important first meeting was only a few moments away.

She heard them before she even walked into the room. If anything was ever consistent across all her lives, it was that the Black Eagles were, to borrow Edelgard’s words from so long ago, “rowdy”. She loved them for it, but she did have to admit that the Golden Deer were at least a little easier to get along with at first. She cleared her throat in front of the door, still nervous after all the times she had done this exact same thing. Bereth gave her shoulder a small squeeze for encouragement, and together they pushed open the double doors to the Black Eagles’ classroom.

There they all were, doing exactly what she knew they would be doing. Ferdinand, the “noblest of nobles” with his perfectly coiffed fiery orange hair, was sitting near the front, chatting animatedly with Petra in the row behind him. The Brigidian princess seemed enthusiastic enough in response, though her maroon eyes kept darting around the room when Ferdinand was busy. Edelgard was standing up by the lectern in the front of the room, obviously waiting for Byleth to arrive. Hubert was haunting the room from behind the closest pillar, his yellow-green eyes giving dark scowls to the pair of Eisners as they walked in. Bernadetta was hiding under her desk, her mop of purple hair more disheveled that usual, and Linhardt was miraculously _present_ for the lecture, even if he was asleep. She smiled in spite of herself - she did love that green-haired mage, even if he had zero work ethic to speak of. Caspar and Dorothea were bundles of nervous energy, chatting near the back of the room. She was always taken aback at how short Caspar was before the war, and how small he looked outside of his signature armor. Dorothea looked radiant as usual, the former songstress' easy, practiced grace and lilting laugh warming the entire room. She let the atmosphere wash over her for a moment, reveling in the feeling of having more of her students back, safe and sound.

After a moment, Bereth cleared his throat loudly, and the two of them walked to the front of the room, next to Edelgard. He launched into what had probably been a well-rehearsed introduction, before faltering. Regaining himself, he addressed the class again. “Actually, rather than my own attempt to introduce her, why don’t we let your new professor begin on her own terms? Si- Professor Eisner, the floor is yours!” He bowed away, his face a light pink at nearly blowing their secret. She was going to _have_ to talk to him about that.

Now, though, all eyes were on her. Time to make an impression.

Sliding on her Ashen Demon face, she surveyed the room, then launched in. “Greetings, Black Eagles. My name is Byleth Eisner. I am a mercenary by trade. You may have heard of me under the moniker “the Ashen Demon”. Regardless… I do not possess the inherent qualifications to teach. Academic subjects were never a part of my life beyond the most basic of basics needed to survive and thrive as a mercenary. Our non-practical lessons may be a bit below the high standards you no doubt expect at first. This will be remedied, as I have always been a fast learner. However…”

She paused, savoring the rapt attention this speech always gave her. “When it comes to your training in how to lead troops, how to fight, and how to survive, I will give you the best education possible. It is my hope that you never have to use these skills which I will foster in you, but it is a fool that clings to hopes of peace while teaching at a military academy. As part of your academy training, you will eventually face real combat against real foes who will attempt to irreparably harm you. Let me make one thing clear.”

She paused again, looking each of them in the eye - even Linhardt had roused himself to listen. “I will not allow a single one of you to die. You have my word.”

\---

The morning passed quickly. Byleth had found some time ago that a speech like the one she gave earlier inspired a bit of awe in the more combat-minded students, and terror in those gentle souls like Bernadetta, who should never have been here in the first place. She spent the first part of her class day “learning” the skills and goals of each of her students, and coming up with personalized training plans for them. In reality, she already knew all of this, and would do everything in her power to shift some of their goals to suit their hidden talents. Coming up on their lunch break, she dismissed the class early, and asked Bernadetta, Linhardt, and Dorothea to stay behind for a moment.

Bernie, as usual, was on the verge of a meltdown. She was certain, no doubt, that she had gotten in trouble and was about to be expelled, murdered, or any number of unpleasant things. Starting back at square one with her every time was hard. Linhardt looked bored, but was unusually watchful. She could tell he was curious about why he was here. Dorothea simply smiled up at her, the kind of smile that could have made a less-focused Byleth’s stilled heart do somersaults. 

She spoke softly. “The reason I had you three hang back is because I saw how troubled you each were about the notion of me turning you into a hardened soldier. I wish that there were some way that I could spare you all the pain of the road you find yourselves on, but there is not. I wanted to tell you that I am going to do my best to ensure that you don’t have a lot of blood on your hands going forward. I have enough for all of you put together on mine - a little more isn’t going to bother me.” She gave them each a small smile, letting the Ashen Demon’s mask slip a little. “I would also like to invite you all to tea, at your convenience. Any time you feel overwhelmed with what I ask of you, that offer stands. Do you all understand?”

\---

Edelgard was torn. Eavesdropping on her new professor during a small meeting of her classmates on the _first day_ of class rankled her sense of propriety. But she had to know what the professor was doing with them. She rubbed absent-mindedly at her chest, trying to soothe a dull ache. Her scars from her time as a prisoner in Enbarr still burned, and if she wasn’t careful, she could feel the knives cutting into her, hear the sorrow of her siblings all around her, feel the cold of the--

“Edelgard.”

She opened her eyes. Her breathing was heavy, and her heart beat rapidly. She took a moment to steel herself again, then turned to the voice that had called her name. Professor Byleth was there, standing a few feet from her. Her voice caught in her throat for a moment - what was going on with her today? - and then she answered. “Yes, my teacher? I apologize, I had meant to speak with you after your meeting, but I was lost in thought.” Not entirely untrue.

“Ah, good. I had actually hoped to speak with you, as well. Will you walk with me?” Byleth’s eyes shone curiously. They were a brilliant shade of blue, large and inquisitive. And yet, as she waited patiently for a response that Edelgard knew she should have given by now, she could swear that she saw a flash of brilliant green in her teacher’s eyes. 

Must have been a trick of the light.

Shaking herself from her reverie, Edelgard gave her a polite smile. “Of course, my teacher. I would be glad to.” Motioning for her to follow, Byleth started walking towards the gardens. Edelgard hesitated for a moment, then sprang after her.

The pair walked in silence until they came to a stop at one of the secluded tables in the hedges of the garden. Edelgard felt her heart speed up, and willed for it to slow itself. Looking into Byleth’s eyes didn’t help matters, as she felt the mercenary looking _through_ her, as if she could see to her core. She tore herself away from that piercing gaze, shuddering. “So…” Edelgard began to speak, if only to stop her professor from _looking_ at her like that for a moment. “My teacher, what is it that you wanted to talk with me about?”

She finally shifted her gaze away from Edelgard, who breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Byleth was now looking up and to the right, seeming for all the world to be pensive, deeply in thought. Then, finally breaking the silence, she said “Ah, right. Well, my br-- er, excuse me, Dean Bereth, mentioned that a mock battle between the houses was going to be held in a couple days. As we don’t have time to really adjust anyone’s skill levels or do intensive weapons training, I wanted to ask your opinion on who we should field. Besides myself and you, we’re allowed to bring three others to act as combatants. That means only three other Black Eagles are going to be in actual combat roles, and the rest will have to sit out and act as observers." 

Edelgard appeared to look thoughtful as her mind raced. What had her teacher almost said? She could have sworn she was about to call Dean Bereth her brother… That would be an interesting connection, and might explain why Rhea hired her out of the blue, but why were the two of them acting so formally towards each other if that was the case? Suddenly, she became aware that Byleth’s piercing gaze was upon her once more, and she forced herself to push those thoughts down for a moment. 

“Well…” she began, “if the point of the mock battle is for those involved to learn and grow, I would suggest that Hubert sit out. His position as my retainer has afforded him some experience that the others lack. Caspar and Ferdinand might be solid choices to sit out as well, if this is the track you take, though fielding none of those three would make victory harder to achieve. But if, however, the point of the mock battle is to score an early victory over the other two houses… My recommendation would then be Dorothea, Bernadetta, and Linhardt sit out. None of them strike me as fierce combatants, and if we are aiming to win, they should certainly not be on the field as fighting units.” 

She looked up, finally meeting Byleth’s eyes again. Byleth stared back at her, face blank, and then, the faintest ghost of a smile appeared. “Thank you, Edelgard. I think that I will take both of your recommendations into account, actually. But, since I will be fighting alongside you all, winning was never really going to be an issue in the first place.”

Edelgard bit back a laugh. Her teacher was certainly not lacking in confidence. Perhaps after they won she would dig further into her past, to see if her slip of the tongue was anything to worry about. But for now, they had a battle to win. She smiled up at her, feeling a strange warmth growing in her chest.

\---

Byleth was glad that she never gave Edelgard her finalized decision at this meeting, as her eyes caught a movement from beyond the hedge wall. Her plan would have to wait. She had Sothis rewind time so she could learn the identity of their eavesdropper - unsurprisingly, it was Claude. She watched the route he took, then after another Divine Pulse, she stepped away from Edelgard, and used the Warp spell Lysithea had _finally_ successfully taught her a few lifetimes back to land on a route that would intersect with his near the stables. Warping was never something she had been good at, per se, and she had never felt confident enough to use it in battle, but it served her purposes here just fine. Claude, meanwhile, had a smirk on his face which quickly faltered as she stepped out in front of him. She saw a look of genuine surprise for half a beat, which was then locked back behind his easy smile. She frowned. “Claude.”

“Oh, hey there, Teach! Fancy meeting you here. Didn’t take you for a big fan of horses.” He gestured around, then returned his hands to his pockets. His eyes were a lot colder than she remembered them being, even back in the academy days. She repressed a sigh. 

“I don’t appreciate being spied on, Claude. It makes it difficult for me to trust you.” His eyes narrowed - clearly her little taunt had worked. Before he could speak again, she softened her tone. No sense in losing the boy to distrust this early. “But I am glad to see you’re so interested. I’ve heard a lot of good things about your tactical skill, and must admit to some curiosity. Give me a good show on Wednesday, alright?”

He stared into her eyes for a moment, searching for something. His green eyes were uncannily sharp, but she knew she had nothing to fear from him this early on. She stared back, cocking an amused eyebrow at him. Finally, he relented. “Sure thing,” he said as a smirk played across his face again. “I’ve been wanting to test out those skills of yours for myself, too. We’ll make a date of it, what d'you say?” He winked, clearly trying to get a rise out of her. 

She wouldn’t take his bait all the way. “Sorry, but I’m afraid that kind of fraternization between professors and students is looked at poorly.” A little smile broke through her mask. “Plus, I’ve never been fond of the word ‘duchess’, so it wouldn’t work out.” His eyes widened, and she could swear his cheeks flushed just a hair. She took her leave of him before things got awkward - in all her lifetimes, Claude von Riegan was one of the few people that could keep up with her, even with all of her vast amounts of experiences keeping her mind sharp. As much as she told herself that students were to be untouchable, the number of times she _had_ crossed that line with him after her long sleep was a bit concerning. The only one she’d let herself fall for more often was Edelgard. And coming off of a lifetime where she’d fought and bled alongside him and the Golden Deer, she still had lingering feelings she hadn’t quite managed to get rid of yet, both joy and sorrow...

“ _Damn. This is going to be a long year if I’m already thinking about this._ ” She sighed, and Sothis giggled, clearly enjoying her host battling with her body’s _stupid_ hormones. Damn thing. If only she could come back older, when she knew she’d be calmer... Shaking her head, she set her steps towards the library. It was time for her secret plan for a quick victory in the mock battle to be set in motion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've always loved the idea of Hilda being Claude's left hand from the word go. I know it diverges a little bit from the game canon, where she's *actually* a layabout and kinda racist in White Clouds, but the whole point of this fic is to go off the rails, so we may as well have fun doing it.
> 
> Poor Jeralt actually really does need that therapy appointment with Manuela, and I promise he'll get it. 
> 
> I've toyed around with ideas about Byleth's S rank. Despite having all these experiences and lives in her memory, she's in a 21-year-old's body. Even though she sees herself as above all of that now, her mind and body are not going to be united on this, or other, issues. I am sticking to my guns on no *professor*/student, though.
> 
> Edited on 01/02/21 for consistency and quality.
> 
> Edited on 03/05/21 for formatting and consistency. Part of the former chapter "School Daze" was placed in this chapter, and that chapter no longer exists.


	4. Training and Trials

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth and Bereth have a heart-to-heart, and the Eagles have the training session of a lifetime

Solon had been more than happy to show her to the Wind magic section. She was so thankful that her persona as the Ashen Demon allowed her to be rude without consequence as long as she moderated it - the thought of being _polite_ to the despicable Agarthan masquerading as the kindly librarian Tomas made her blood boil. She thumbed through the titles, scanning for the one she wanted - ah, there it was! A thin pamphlet, written by some acerbic foreign wind mage ages ago to be a primer for beginners, was stashed between thick treatises on the subject. She pulled it out, smirking down at the bold “ _ELWIND FOR IDIOTS_ ” title it bore. Next stop, the market… Hang on.

She had always gone to the marketplace and paid out nearly all of her pathetic teaching stipend to have a custom Wind tome created that was easy for beginners to use, but powerful. It had been worth not being able to buy bait to fish with until next month, since the month was _almost_ over anyways. But that was in a world where she was alone. This time, she had a brother with a talent for adjusting magical tomes and spells to suit his purposes. She smiled widely - what a stroke of luck! She could get her powerful tome _and_ be able to fish some this weekend. Pulsing with excitement, she knocked loudly on her brother’s office door.

“Enter”, his voice came through the door. The poor thing sounded exhausted already, and the term had _just_ begun. She let herself in, shut the door, and gave her weary brother a cheerful greeting. He perked up, nearly shouting “Oh! Byleth! What an unexpected surprise! To what do I owe the pleasure?” She furrowed her eyebrows, hoping no one was nearby enough to have overheard them. Bereth hadn’t noticed, his obvious excitement at her presence nearly child-like, and, if she admitted it, comforting. “Oh, before I forget, I’ve made a breakthrough in dark magic!”

A breakthrough? She thought for a moment. That might come in handy, but she was here on a mission… “Sorry, Bereth, but can that wait for just a moment? I have an important favor to ask you, and once that’s over I’ll happily listen.” She smiled, hoping that would be enough. Bereth’s smile faltered a little, but he bounced back quickly. “Ah, well…” he started. “Well, I suppose I can help you out _a little_ , though it certainly is early in the year for you to need the Dean’s help…”

“ _Oh my. He thinks you’re in over your head with teaching! Ah, how wonderfully cute he is._ ” Sothis appeared, speaking to Byleth but allowing Bereth to hear as well. Bereth’s cheeks burned crimson with embarrassment. Byleth stifled a laugh, then set her hand on her brother’s, which had been clenching in place on the desk. “Don’t worry too much about it,” she said soothingly. “I suppose I should have been more explicit that it wasn’t a class difficulty. That’s your _actual_ job, after all, but it’s not what I came here for your help with.”

She briefly explained her usual plan, including how she’d have to give up fishing for it normally, before asking him (a little more sheepishly than she’d meant) “So… Since you can fiddle around with magic and all… Feel like helping your favorite sister out some?” Bereth’s face fell. He looked mortified. “I…” he said, voice barely higher than a whisper. “I’m sorry, Byleth. I know I should do it because siblings help each other, but… I’m the Dean. I can’t do something that would show clear favoritism toward any one house - I’m over them all! I’m so sorry…” He looked like he was going to burst into tears.

“Ah… okay” was all she managed to get out. She was taken aback - she hadn’t even considered that he’d have a conflict of interest, but it made sense. A horrible, guilty feeling bloomed in her chest, and she reached both hands over onto one of his. “Please don’t apologize - _I_ am the one who should have known better. I wasn’t even thinking about how you’d feel about it, only that you were a… that you could do it for me. I’m sorry, Be…” His eyes shot up, confusion evident.

“Er… ‘Be’?” He was clearly confused by the pet name.

She resisted the urge to slap her forehead. Of course he wouldn’t have those memories of Jeralt, awkwardly attempting to comfort her as a child and slipping in that little pet name for her. “Sorry… Just seemed right. Dad used to call me ‘By’ when I was a kid and something bad had happened. It always calmed me down, and I thought it might work on you, but I forgot that that would probably sound weird.”

A smile crept onto Bereth’s face, getting bigger by the moment. Tears were in his eyes, and finally he choked out “That’s… wonderful. And… and I get one too?” 

“ _My, it seems all the emotion you should have had went to the other twin, little one”,_ Sothis whispered in her mind, just for her. She smiled, at both of them. Idiots. Finding her voice, she answered him. “Yeah… I can call you that, if you’d like. Obviously not in front of people, but, you know… when it’s just us, I don’t mind at all.” Annoyance from earlier crept in. “By the way, _Be_ , we need to have a talk about treating the both of us like colleagues, not family.”

He flinched, but did not completely lose his smile, and quickly nodded. “I know, I know… I’ve never been cut out for skullduggery or intrigue, and even that little bit that _should_ be doable is hard for me. I… Well, frankly, I find myself overjoyed at the thought of having… having a family.” 

Oh. Oh no. Now he’d done it. She could feel wet pinpricks in her eyes as her body betrayed her.

Suppressing a sniffle valiantly, she spoke softly. “Well… You have one. It may take Dad a little more time to come around to the idea, and he was never the most emotional guy to begin with, but…” She thought of Jeralt, bleeding out from that cursed Agarthan dagger, and fury burned in her chest. “I will do _everything_ in my power to make sure you get to see that side of him, too.”

Forcing herself to regain composure, Byleth sighed. “Now, then. I’ve got to get back to class soon, but I’d like to hear some about your breakthrough.” Bereth smiled widely, excitement shining in his eyes. “Ah, yes! Er… but, no, not right now. It concerns a rare branch of dark magic termed ‘illusion magic’, and I _will_ talk your ear off about it later, if you let me. But for now… Tell you what. Go ahead and buy your Wind tome, and then… Well, a while ago I requested that part of my pay come in the form of a… er… oh, please don’t make fun of me for this! A... “ His voice shrank. “...bait stipend.” He looked mortified saying the words aloud. 

Damn. It really did run in the family.

Clearing his throat, he looked her in the eye only to find Byleth grinning up at him. “I would be more than happy to share my stipend with you this month, and any month you run low on bait you can buy on your own, provided you _do_ leave some for me. I get the sense that you’re quite the fishing enthusiast yourself.” It was all she could do to stop herself from launching across his desk and pulling her brother into a crushing hug. She settled for thanking him profusely, and turned to leave his office.

“Ah, actually, one more thing, er… By?” He looked up at her, trepidation in his eyes at using her pet name. She nodded, and relief overtook his features. “I’ve got something for you. It’s that Muffling spell you wanted. Use it well.” She smiled at him. This day just kept getting better and better.

\---

She waited as her Eagles filed back into the room slowly. The afternoon session of class wouldn’t last nearly as long as the morning, as she only needed to make some announcements, and take them over to the training room for the first of many beatdowns. Finally satisfied after Dorothea slunk back into the classroom a few minutes late, she shut the doors, and pulled out her Muffling tome. Since she was yet unfamiliar with the spell, she’d need to keep it open while she cast. Covering the doors, windows, walls, and even the ceiling, she finally nodded to herself in satisfaction.

Her students were staring at her, but the _hunger_ on Hubert’s face as he stared from her to her tome was a little unnerving. Of course he’d sussed out what she was doing, and would want that tome desperately. Slipping her Ashen Demon mask on, she addressed the class. “Just making sure that we aren’t overheard by some of the more… eager, shall we say, students. If you’re curious about this tome, Hubert, I would have to speak with Dean Bereth about you acquiring one for yourself. It’s very advanced magic. I know your specialty lies in dark and Black magics already, but it would mean that you would need to undergo extra training. Let me know if that would interest you after class.”

His mind must be doing cartwheels at the thought of never having to worry about eavesdroppers again. Edelgard looked defeated upon hearing it was so advanced, but she would deal with _that_ hang-up later as well.

Now for a little fun. “Everyone, grab your things, and head over to the training grounds. We meet there in fifteen minutes for a quick practical session, and then I’ll be letting you all go early. You’ll need some extra time to rest.” Dorothea’s hand shot up, curiosity on her face. “Pardon me, Professor, but the mock battle isn’t for another couple days. Shouldn’t we need extra rest _tomorrow_ instead of today?”

Byleth smirked. “You’re all training against me today. I meant what I said.” Dorothea paled, and lowered her hand.

Now for Lin… “Linhardt.” Her voice carried over to his not-yet-sleeping form, and he looked up at her with the faintest hint of annoyance. “You’re also involved in this training, but that isn’t what I want to speak with you about. See me after class. You’re not in any trouble, so don’t worry. In fact… I think you’ll be quite interested.”

\---

She did stretches, ignoring the stares from some of the students who hadn’t cleared out of the training grounds at her order. She saw the Blue Lions class packing up - perhaps Hanneman had had them running practicals today too? How odd. They must be getting off early as well, since none of them were moving to follow Hanneman as he swept out of the grounds. “Professor,” he greeted her politely. “We’re all done here for today, so feel free to tell anyone in the way of your class to move aside.” She smiled back at him - she’d always liked Hanneman. A bit too obsessive over crests, but ever since she’d learned why… 

“Thank you, Professor. I’m sure they’re just interested in watching, anyway.” Turning to her class, she began barking out orders like a mercenary.

She had her class split up into pairs, and had each of them grab a melee weapon off the training racks. Hubert grumbled, but obeyed, grabbing a lance. Linhardt stared hard at the rack for a while, before reluctantly grabbing a sword. They all readied up, staring at her for further instructions. Petra had chosen a sword, and was paired up with Ferdinand and his lance. Hubert was fighting alongside Bernadetta, who was clutching her own lance in terror at both her partner and the situation. Caspar had chosen some wooden tonfa that would serve as training gauntlets, and Linhardt held his sword almost guiltily next to him. Dorothea held her sword passively, standing with Edelgard and her axe. Good. Each pair had someone who was confident in their choice of weapon, at least.

She felt the watching eyes of the Lions, especially Felix, as she grabbed her own training sword. Ignoring the amber eyes burning a hole into her, she turned to her class. “All right, everyone. This is an exercise where you will all attempt to attack me. I’ve split you into pairs for this. Try to work with your partner to get an opening on me, and take it. If either of you score a hit on me, I will reward the both of you. Once all four pairs have gone, class will be over. Am I understood?”

The Eagles nodded, clearly nervous. Felix scoffed at what he must have thought was supreme overconfidence on her part. During her first lifetime he might have been right about that, but the Byleth that stood in front of them today had the greatest tactical mind that had ever graced Fodlan. Her body may not yet be up to her impossibly high standards yet, but it would be enough.

“Alright. First pair, come”, she ordered. She heard a snicker from the watching Lions, followed by a pained gasp - Sylvain on both counts, if she had to guess. Bless Ingrid for putting up with his antics.

Ferdinand and Petra circled her. She gave a duelist’s salute, then stood ready. Petra gave a glance to Ferdinand, who returned it. In a battle, she would have punished that momentary lapse in concentration. “ _Patience_ ”, she told herself. Then, Petra was on her, slashing to and fro ferociously, trying to tie up her guard while Ferdinand circled to flank her. It was a good plan, and if she’d been anyone else, it might have worked. She effortlessly dodged the lance thrust, Sothis giving her the exact timing from her perch atop Byleth’s head, and yanked the lance from Ferdinand’s grip. She slipped it between Petra’s arms and twisted the haft, forcing her arms apart and wrenching her sword out of her hands. Spinning the lance around, she pointed her sword to Petra’s throat, and Ferdiand’s lance to his chest. “Yield.” They both did, a look of awe on their faces.

It was a look common to all the students in the room, as it turned out. Even Felix couldn’t hide his shock right away. She gave him a faint smile before turning back to her class - she had always liked that prickly swordmaster. Her attention back on her first pair, she began her critique. “Good job, you two. Petra, I was pleased with how you tried to overwhelm my defenses. Ferdinand, attempting to strike from my blind spot while I was otherwise occupied was a sound tactical decision. It looked like you both had good battlefield communication. You did well.”

Sothis huffed. “ _If I hadn’t been here tipping the scales for you, you wouldn’t be able to do this at all, you know._ ” She smiled. “ _But I guess it doesn’t hurt to let you have a little fun every now and then._ ”

Byleth returned her smile, though Petra and Ferdinand misinterpreted it as being for them. Returning her attention to the class, she called for the next pair. Poor Bernie. She was so frightened of everything at the start of the year. Hubert being there wasn’t helpful to her at all yet, but she at least had the presence of mind to stand off behind Byleth while Hubert attempted to engage her with his lance. She dodged lazily, waiting for Bernie to start making weak jabs at her as well before she batted the lance out of Hubert’s grasp. Incensed at having his weapon taken, dark energy crackled in his fingers. “Oh?” she said in a mocking tone, before nodding to continue. Hubert unleashed several small-scale Miasma spells at her in rapid pace, and Bernie kept jabbing at her from behind. Interesting.

She kicked Hubert’s fallen lance up into her left hand, and channeled some magical energy into it as she whirled it, dissipating his Miasma shots. Focusing further, she forcefully shot a Thunder spell through the lance - the result was a targeted jolt that hit Hubert in the shoulder, knocking him to the ground. Upon seeing Hubert fall, Bernie threw down her lance and cowered in place. She immediately crossed to Hubert, who was slow to get up. Checking where her spell had impacted him, she let healing energy flow into her hand, and stood him back up. Turning to Bernie next, Byleth walked over, crouched down, and stroked her hair softly. “You did well,” she said, and Bernie’s watery lilac eyes met her blue ones. She helped her up, then turned back to the class.

“That was very good improvisation, Hubert. I’m impressed by your quick thinking. I apologize for the strike on you - sometimes my instincts take over when I see an interesting opponent.” She gave him a small bow, before looking down at the now-ruined training lance. “I’ll pay for this myself, so no worries there.” The wood was burnt where she had forced magic through it, and the whole thing felt brittle. Turning to Bernie, she gave her shoulder a small squeeze. “You did quite well at overcoming your fear. Your thrusts were a little on the weak side today, but I think you’ll be able to do even that out with more training. Overall, I’m pleased with your performance. Nothing negative to say, or think.” She gave her a weak smile, and was beyond relieved that Bernie didn’t find a way to twist her words negatively.

The Lions were entranced. She’d shown off a little more of her skill than she’d meant to, but Byleth was having _fun_ with this. Felix in particular looked pensive, which was a look she’d rarely seen on him before. Returning her attention to her class, she called for the next pair.

Linhardt looked down at his sword as if it were dirty, then asked “Professor, if Hubert was allowed to fight with magic, can I just start from there and leave this thing alone?” She stifled a laugh before answering. “No, Linhardt. The point of this exercise is to ensure that you’re all at least vaguely familiar with a melee weapon, and increase the effectiveness of your teamwork against a superior opponent. Your magical energy isn’t limitless, and getting caught without a backup weapon is a death sentence for a mage who’s now out of spells. Same for why Bernie used a lance before. Try the sword, and if you don’t like it, we can work on something else next time.”

He sighed, as this whole thing was an exhausting bore for him. Caspar was, of course, blazing with energy. She signaled them to start, and Caspar was on her almost instantly. His fists were moving rapidly, and while she could easily keep up with him, she had to focus less on solely dodging, and more on adding blocks into the mix. This meant she had to pay more attention to Caspar than Linhardt, but she trusted Sothis would warn her if he did anything. They battled for a few seconds more, Linhardt simply pacing behind her, when all of a sudden her chest was flooded with cold - Sothis dived inside of her.

“ _Agh! Sothis, what the hell?!"_ she cried out in her mind. It was harder to move when this pervasive cold flooded her senses. 

“ _She… But that’s not possible… But she…"_ The little goddess was deeply concerned about _something_ , but not getting straight answers was irritating in the middle of a fight.

“ _Sothis - focus. What’s wrong?_ ” she whispered, a little more forcefully than she meant. She felt a pang of fear that was not her own, and began to worry. “ _That girl. The little green-haired one. She… I could have sworn she_ **_saw_ ** _me, Byleth.”_

Eyes searching wildly, Byleth scanned the room for green, and did not have to look far. There, standing in a corner by one of the pillars, stood Flayn. Her mouth was agape. _Shit_.

Just then, Byleth stumbled forward, feeling the sting of a training sword strike her back. _Linhardt had hit her_. She was elated, but not wanting to lose face, she quickly turned her full attention on Caspar, and slammed him to the ground. Whirling around, she saw Linhardt looking pleased with himself, but all it took was turning her attention to him for him to say “Yield”, and drop his sword.

Caspar bounded upwards, a huge smile on his face. “Holy shit Lin, you did it! I can’t believe it!” he crowed, clearly immensely proud of his childhood friend. Linhardt rubbed the back of his neck, still smiling. “You don’t have to act _that_ surprised, Caspar…”

Byleth’s mind was moving at a blistering pace. First things first, she looked over at Flayn, mouthing “Later.” at her. The little green-haired girl nodded, clearly interested in what later would entail. Next, she turned to her students, a little pink in the cheeks. She’d never intended to be hit by any of them, much less _Linhardt_ of all people. Time for a little humble pie.

“Well, a promise is a promise. You did exceedingly well to read the situation, Linhardt, and use my distraction against me. That’s exactly the kind of thinking you all need to have on a real battlefield - distraction is deadly. Caspar, your relentless offense kept me occupied to the point where my distraction became exploitable. Excellent work. I’ll be sure to get you both something nice for your efforts.” The two boys went back over to the rest of the Eagles, and Linhardt was the target of many pats on the back.

Incredible.

“ _Sothis. Are you alright? I know that was shocking for you. If you need to disappear for a moment, I’m fine with these last two. I know how to fight Edelgard like the back of my hand.”_ She hoped she was exuding the comfort she was trying to, but with the cold in her chest it was difficult. 

The goddess’ voice was small when she responded. “ _I’d like that, yes. Thank you, little one._ ” And she was gone.

Straightening her posture, she glanced over at the Lions. Dimitri had a focused look on his face - _this_ was the fight he had stayed behind to watch. Sylvain looked intrigued too, but whether that was about watching Dorothea jumping around in her tight uniform or about watching a good fight was anyone’s guess. Felix looked at Byleth hungrily, clutching at his ceremonial saber. Ingrid and Dedue stood almost at attention, taking the opportunity to learn by example. Mercedes, Ashe, and Annette were talking among themselves, but were also still keeping an eye on the proceedings.

Waving Edelgard and Dorothea over, she called for the final bout to begin. Edelgard was up in her face in an instant, swinging powerful arcs with her axe. Dorothea darted around her, striking with the grace of a dancer already. The two of them were both tricky opponents, but since neither of them was trying to flank her, they were no match for her even without Sothis on lookout duty. Byleth smacked Dorothea on the wrist with the flat of her blade, and after stealing her sword out of the air, she turned into a whirlwind of blades to push Edelgard back to mid-range. Edelgard had always been uncannily fast while swinging a heavy axe around - doubtless the power of her twin crests fortifying her body beyond normal levels - but she had limits to her stamina this early on. All she had to do was wear her down.

It was Byleth’s turn to go on offense, and it was all Edelgard could do to defend against her. She saw her breathing get heavier and heavier, and decided it would be wise to disarm her now before she decided to call on one of her crests to keep going. Even in training, Edelgard hated losing, after all. Whipping her swords rapidly, she caught the head of the axe, and wrenched it from Edelgard’s grip at the cost of one of her swords breaking in half.

Throwing the useless sword down, she pointed the remaining one at Edelgard’s chest, conjuring a Fire spell and aiming it at Dorothea with her free hand. “Yield, ladies.” They did.

The Lions burst into applause, which embarrassed her and Edelgard, but Dorothea took a mocking bow. Dimtri was beaming as he walked over to them. “Professor, E-- Edelgard,” he stammered, almost using a name Byleth knew he recalled from childhood. “That was masterfully done. Both of you were incredible. I shall look forward to crossing blades with either or both of you in the mock battle.” Edelgard gave a small scoffing laugh, but out of politeness responded “I as well, Prince of Faerghus. It will be interesting to put your vaunted strength to the test.” Byleth looked over - Sylvain was trying to chat up Dorothea, and obviously getting nowhere. She gave a sharp whistle. “Excuse me, Gautier. I need my student back for the end of class. You can shoot your shot later.” Red tinged Sylvain’s face now to match his hair, but he gave no reply.

“Edelgard, Dorothea, that was a very fun battle. The two of you work well together, but one critique I have is that you should both look for opportunities to flank. Fighting head on, I could have taken the entire class, but as you saw in the last fight, flanking is how you take down an opponent who outclasses you in terms of strength, speed, or skill. Flanking wins battles, whether it’s two battalions fighting or two individuals. Still, you are both quite strong.” Softening, she looked directly at Dorothea. “How’s the wrist? Need any healing?” The brunette songstress shook her head.

With a few final points of advice, Byleth dismissed class. She had Linhardt stay back, waiting for the Lions to file out as well. Felix was the last out, and he stopped in the doorway. “Professor.” She arched an eyebrow. “Yes, Felix?” She knew what was coming. “I want to spar with you later. No holding back, either.” She gave a soft laugh, before looking him in the eye. “You’ve got to earn _that_. But sure, we can start slow. I’ll let you know when I’m free.” Evidently satisfied, he walked out of the training grounds, leaving Byleth alone with Linhardt and, unbeknownst to him, Flayn.

She’d deal with the green-haired mage that was her actual responsibility first.

“Linhardt.” She looked him over, still surprised at his earlier performance. “I had already made this decision before this little practical session, but I’m even more convinced now. I’m going to have you take the field in the mock battle.” His eyes widened in surprise. “ _Me_ , professor? But… Well, I mean, there’s not going to be any need for healing in a mock battle like this, and you’re obviously more than capable of handling that if there is…” He trailed off, looking tired.

“I know you probably want to head off and take a well-earned nap, and I’ll let you go in a moment. But, I had an idea. Something that you’ll enjoy, and something that will give us an edge.” She rummaged around in the bag she’d left by the weapon racks, finally finding her targets. “Here. These are yours.” Linhardt accepted the pamphlet and tome warily. “Wind magic?” he questioned. “How’d you know I was interested in learning that?”

She smiled. “Call it intuition, if you’d like. That tome there is special. I’ve had it customized to allow someone as bright as you to cast at full power with almost no familiarity. And the pamphlet is one that was quite helpful to me when I was learning Wind magic. The author’s a bit of an ass, but he clearly knows his Wind.”

Linhardt accepted her gifts, and the two parted ways. Byleth acted like she had forgotten something, and went back into the training grounds, before walking nervously over to the side of the room. Flayn was waiting for her there, looking every bit as nervous as she was. 

“Hello, Flayn. Let’s talk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This damn training scene kept getting longer and longer. It's the entire reason I split this chapter up. Sharp-eyed readers may detect a ship or two forming in this chapter and the one before it.
> 
> Also, Soren wrote that pamphlet while traveling the world with Ike. They're gay and in love and I can't help that. 
> 
> Edited on 01/02/21 for consistency and quality.
> 
> Edited on 03/05/21 for formatting and consistency.


	5. Fire and Ice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flayn and Byleth have a talk, and the Eagles face a mock battle that quickly becomes a lot more real than they had expected.

The pair stood awkwardly, a few paces apart. Byleth was certain that if her heart was able to beat, it would be hammering out of her chest. All her thoughts were consumed on a single point: _How could Flayn see Sothis?_

She felt Sothis returning to her, her own worry reflected by her companion. She tried to send her reassuring sensations, but they were both too nervous for that to work. She swallowed hard.

“So…”, they both began at the same time. Embarrassed, Byleth motioned for Flayn to go first, and the small girl breathed in deeply, before launching off from the safety of silence.

“Well… You see, Professor… I saw something odd earlier, during your training. Something that… Something no one else but you seemed to have noticed.” She scuffed the ground with her shoe, clearly wanting to say more but simultaneously afraid to.

Byleth sighed. She couldn’t for the life of her threaten Flayn into silence, but that confirmed that she _had_ seen Sothis somehow. She resolved to be honest with the girl, since lying about it might send her to Seteth, which was _not_ something Byleth wanted this early on. Nodding to herself, she cleared her throat.

“Yeah…” A slow start. “Look, Flayn. I have no intention of lying to you. But there are also a couple questions you may have that I can’t quite answer. Like… I can’t tell you her name, and I can’t really tell you how we met, either. Please understand - this is a tricky thing for me, too. Aside from those two bit, please ask me whatever you wish - whatever you need to feel comfortable, and, ah… let's maybe not involve your brother. Deal?” She looked into Flayn’s viridian eyes, hoping beyond hope she would agree.

“Oh, er…” Flayn paused, mulling over her words. “I suppose I won’t tell my brother about this, as long as you’re going to be agreeable… And, er, maybe if you do something else for me as well?”

Byleth cocked an eyebrow - Flayn was playing an angle? She nodded, trying to keep her face neutral as bewilderment spread through her mind. Flayn jumped and clapped her hands, clearly elated. “Oh, wonderful! I spent part of the day, er… well, I suppose he might have considered it to be pestering… Anyway, I have been trying to talk to your father, Captain Jeralt. I was curious about you, you see, and one thing that he mentioned was your enjoyment of the noble art of fishing. I love to _eat_ fish, but I… Well, I have never been taught the subtle intricacies of how to catch them myself. So, if you answer what questions you can, and agree to teach me how to fish, I see no reason to bring Seteth into this.”

Byleth laughed, a smile on her face. Flayn never changed, did she? She nodded, still smiling. “Well, you drive a hard bargain, Flayn. But if that’s what it takes, I’ll just have to bear it.” She gestured to a bench along the side of the training grounds. “Shall we sit?”

The two women sat down, and Flayn was back to fidgeting. “Well, I cannot help but notice that she seems to be, er, rather young-looking. I know that you told me you cannot tell me her name, or how you found yourself involved with her, but is there anything you can tell me about her nature?” Byleth hummed, casting about in her mind for something that was safe to tell Flayn. After a few moments, she settled on a couple relatively unimportant details.

“Well… From what I know, she isn’t exactly alive, like you and I are. But she’s also not a ghost. She’s something else, though neither of us have figured out what to call what she actually is. She also can’t really interact with the physical world in a meaningful way. The most she can do is make a spot of cold, heavy air where her body should be. As far as we know, you’re the only other person besides, er…” Byleth paused, weighing whether she could tell Flayn about Bereth. If it got back to Rhea, it could backfire disastrously… And yet, sharing a further secret with the manakete might help to endear her to Byleth, potentially enough to lay the groundwork for her and Seteth to turn against Rhea if things came to a head as they usually did.

“Well… As long as we’re sharing secrets that don’t need to get back to your brother… As it turns out, I _also_ have a brother here. You know Dean Bereth, right?” Flayn nodded, then understanding dawned on her face. “Oh! You mean to say that you and he are siblings? Oh how wonderful!” Byleth nodded, smiling. “We’re trying to keep it quiet for now, so I appreciate your discretion. In any event… He’s the only other person besides you and I who can see and speak to our mutual floating friend. I admit, it’s strange to think that you would be able to - I figured it was something to do with being blood-related to me that let him also see her.” 

This wasn’t technically a lie, but it skirted a little close to the line for Byleth’s comfort. Flayn, however, seemed busy with her own thoughts, and did not speak for a few moments. When she did, she seemed somehow even more hesitant than when they started. “I noticed something else, er… odd, about your floating friend.” Byleth had an idea of where this was going, but there was no need to assume and rush rashly into giving out more information than she needed to.

Opting for humor to diffuse the situation, Byleth said “I know she has no fashion sense whatsoever, but I promise she’s a good person”, which elicited an indignant “ _Hey!”_ from Sothis as she winked into view. Her hands were on her hips, and Byleth was taken aback at how similar grandmother and granddaughter looked. Flayn stared at Sothis in wonder, and Sothis only looked a _little_ embarrassed at the sudden attention.

Clearing her throat, Byleth spoke more softly. “But… that isn’t what you actually noticed, is it?” Flayn shook her head, green tresses swinging to and fro. She tried several times to speak, before finally squeaking out a single word: “Ears.” Neither Byleth or Sothis knew how to address that they were well aware of Sothis’ ears, and of _why_ Flayn was so intrigued, so they said nothing. 

Flayn reached out a single, shaking hand, inching closer and closer to Sothis. Finally, she made contact - or would have if Sothis were a normal person. Feeling her hand slide through Sothis’ form gave Flayn pause. Deep, abiding sadness overtook her features, and tears began to well up in the small manakete’s eyes. Acting almost as one, Byleth and Sothis moved to comfort Flayn, the latter making small shushing noises while relying on Byleth for physical contact. “ _It is okay, little one. No one has been able to touch me for as long as I can remember, not even Byleth. If I could make myself corporeal I would do so, if only so you could…”_ She broke off, clearly lost in thought.

“ _Byleth. We need to talk later_ ”, she said in a serious tone. Byleth nodded.

The conversation halted there. Flayn was overcome with sadness, and wouldn’t say any more. To break her out of her reverie, Byleth haltingly moved her hand to Flayn’s cheek, bringing her face up so that she could look her in the eye. Smiling down at her, she offered a peace treaty - fishing lessons that same night, that very instant if Flayn so desired. A small smile was her reward, and the two parted ways after Byleth promised to meet her at the fishing pond's dock after dinner.

**\- 22nd of the Great Tree Moon, Imperial Year 1180 -**

The next day rushed by in a blur of activity, as Byleth reflected on it all before going to sleep - teaching, training, fishing with Flayn, who had taken to it like a fish to-- “ _Byleth, that joke is horrible_ ”, Sothis chided before she could finish. Her goddess’ presence was a welcome one, as Sothis had spent most of the day deep in thought. Byleth had tried to bring up what happened with Flayn last night as she went about her pre-bed routine, but Sothis had waved her off. Perhaps now she was ready to talk?

She sank down into the bed, and patted the empty space next to her. Sothis settled down beside her, eyes showing that she was still pensive. She sighed deeply, throwing her hands up and resting them behind her head like Claude was so fond of doing.

“You know… I’ve come to miss having someone to talk to during the day. I always miss you when you’re gone, but missing you while you’re still around is weird.” She rubbed her nose, waiting for Sothis to respond.

At last, her voice floated up, small and quiet. “ _Little one… I’m sorry. I know how much that moment weighs upon you. I didn’t mean to make you feel sad."_ She poked her head up, moving to where she was almost lying on the unused pillow Byleth left out for her. It was comforting, seeing her there.

“So…” Byleth said, turning on her side to face the goddess next to her. “Want to talk about Flayn?” Sothis nodded. “It’s strange, you know… We’ve seen her, together, _so_ many times now. I wonder if it’s different having her so close up?”

Sothis gave a noncommittal shrug. A few moments of silence passed between them. Then: “ _She is my flesh and blood. I could tell._ ” Green eyes fixed Byleth’s blue ones. Byleth sighed.

“Yeah. Her real name isn’t Flayn. It’s Cethleann. I’ve never gotten an exact answer on how old she is, but I don’t think she was born while you were alive. Or at least, not while you were awake. Her father is Seteth, who you would know by the name Cichol, if you’re starting to get your memories back.” A moment passed in silence. “Wait. _Are_ you starting to get your memories back?!” She pushed herself up on one elbow, elated.

Sothis gave her a tiny nod, and a smile began to play across her face. “ _I still don’t remember everything - how I got here, why I_ **_came_ ** _here in the first place… I don’t remember most of my children, either, which bothers me greatly. But I’m starting to get flashes… Names, scents, the feelings of old embraces… And I knew that girl, even though as you said, I likely never knew her. Could…_ ” She stopped, thinking hard about what she was going to say.

Her voice was very faint now, as if the voicing of this idea was beyond the pale. “ _Could we… talk to Cichol sometime? I just want to see his face. Maybe I’ll remember more._ ”

Byleth groaned. “Seteth doesn’t like me until after Flayn’s kidnapping, remember?” But the look on Sothis’ face melted her resistance. “Ugh… Fine. But you owe me for this, you hear? We’ll talk to him soon, I promise.”

Unbeknownst to either woman, a shadow crept away from Byleth’s window.

**\- 30th of the Great Tree Moon, Imperial Year 1180 -**

The morning of the mock battle came quickly. Byleth met her Eagles bright and early for breakfast, nodding at her father as he stomped through the dining hall over to her. Chasing after him was Leonie Pinelli, no doubt trying to get time with him that she hadn’t had since the year Jeralt spent out in her village, Sauin. Byleth had only vague memories of that time, but she remembered thinking Leonie was annoying back then. It was probably because she couldn’t express emotions at the time, and Leonie was just a normal kid.

Jeralt clapped a large hand on her shoulder. “Hey there, kid. Settling in okay?” His voice was always even more gravelly in the mornings, like boulders rumbling down a mountain path. She nodded at him, bacon hanging from her mouth as she systematically wolfed down her second plate of food. Her Eagles watched her with a mixture of disgust, envy, and wonder.

Patting the bench next to her, she gave an almighty swallow before taking a swig of juice. Jeralt and Leonie sat down wordlessly, and Byleth reached over to give her father a quick side-hug. Jeralt made small talk with Leonie, before noticing the pointed gaze of Edelgard boring a hole in the side of his face. She had been sitting directly across from Byleth, and had until recently been enjoying whatever crumb of attention Byleth had left that wasn’t wholly on her food.

“Ah. Knight-Captain Jeralt. It’s good to see you again. You seem well.” she said coolly, as if she _hadn’t_ just pouted over losing Byleth’s attention. “Right. Good to see you too, kid-- er, Princess. Sorry about that, force of habit.” Jeralt flashed a half-hearted apology on his face, which probably earned him no points with Edelgard. He turned his own attention to his food, and soon the Eagles discovered that their new professor’s gusto for food was hereditary. 

Finishing his meal, he rubbed a hand on Byleth’s back. “Listen, kid. I’ve got an assignment this morning, so Dean Bereth is gonna be handling the mock battle. Apparently the Captain of the Knights of Seiros usually oversees these mock battles, but the church is keeping me busy. Anyway, point is, I won’t be there. I’m taking this one--” he jerked his thumb at Leonie “--and some stuck up noble brat from her house along with me. Could only justify taking cavaliers, you see, and neither of them were busy…”

Byleth’s mind whipped into gear. Lorenz and Leonie were both out of play for the mock battle? Claude usually only fielded the former of those, but to not have either as an option? What would he do now? Remembering herself, Byleth nodded, wishing Leonie good luck on her mission. She motioned for Edelgard to join her, and waved goodbye to her father as she headed out towards the dock with Edelgard in tow.

“Teacher?” Edelgard spoke up, curiosity evident in her tone. Byleth consulted her knowledge of Claude’s tactics, running through scenarios in her mind. Finally, she looked at Edelgard. “Claude’s down both of his lance users… It calls for a slight change of plans, but it’s not gonna be anything we can’t handle. I’m sticking to our initial plans for deployment, at least for now. We’ll see if that changes, but it should be fine.” She nodded to herself.

This would be interesting, at least.

\---

She and the Eagles marched out to the practice field, a few minutes outside of the town at the base of the monastery. Along the way, they caught up to the Blue Lions, who had taken breakfast in the town itself, and their two groups walked the rest of the way, chatting amicably. As expected, Claude had gotten the Golden Deer down to the practice field first, and they looked to already be in position in the northwestern part of the field. Manuela stood near a small shack, looking bored and more than a little upset that Claude had managed to make her show up so early. The man himself stood near a little makeshift barricade right at the edge of a lightly forested part of the field, along with Hilda. She had a couple hand axes that Byleth could make out from a distance, and probably more than that that she couldn’t see. Chatting with them from the other side of the barricade was Raphael, and--

“Lysithea?!” Edelgard’s shocked voice rang out beside her. Indignantly, she lowered her voice, turning to Byleth. “I can’t _believe_ him. How could he field her when she’s just a--”

Byleth raised her eyebrows, flashing her house leader a stern look. Edelgard swallowed hard, probably trying not to yell at her. “Edelgard,” Byleth began, her voice low. “Lysithea is a capable student. Underestimating her physical fortitude or magical might right now because of her age would be a very bad idea, _especially_ if she ever heard that you did so. Understand?” Cowed, the white-haired princess lowered her head. “I… Yes, my teacher. I understand. But please, try to make sure she doesn’t take any strong blows. She would… I would hate to see that happen.”

\---

Byleth, Edelgard, Bernadetta, Ferdinand, and Linhardt marched out to take their spot on the southern end of the field. Off to the northeast, Hanneman, Dimitri, Dedue, Ashe, and Mercedes were spread out along the grassy plains that lay ahead of the Eagles. To the northwest, little had changed for the Golden Deer. Claude and Hilda hung back inside their barricades, while Raphael was far to the south, with Lysithea bridging the distance between him and their fearless leader. Manuela stood alone on the other side of the forest, mirroring Hanneman’s isolated spot in the northeastern ruins.

They couldn’t quite make out what Hanneman or Manuela were saying to their houses, but Byleth and Edelgard could hear the pre-battle chatter from their classmates. Dimitri, simplistic tactician that he was, wanted for Ashe to push forward into the grass, covered by Dedue, and pick off whoever he saw as the Black Eagles and Golden Deer clashed on the plain. He and Mercedes were going to play backup, while Hanneman watched them from the safety of the ruins.

Hilda laughed at the composition of the Black Eagles offense, but was told off by Claude. His eyes glinted, and he looked Byleth straight in the eye even as he chided his pink-haired friend. “Overconfidence isn’t gonna help anything here, Hilda. If you make light of that new professor, you’re going to get hurt…” His look was cold, and Byleth recoiled a little bit. Raphael was fired up, and Lysithea was unusually quiet. Byleth realized with a slight pang of sympathy that this would be her first taste of battle, mock or otherwise. She was probably having a lot of feelings right about now.

Byleth wasn’t _too_ worried, overall. Her tactics led them to take down both the Lions and Deer simultaneously during most of the lifetimes where she led the Black Eagles, and even with a substitution in the Deer’s forces, things would probably go fine. Probably. Sothis got into battle position on her head, and at the sound of the horn that signaled the start of the battle, Byleth, Ferdinand, and Edelgard charged down into the plains. Bernadetta ran behind Byleth, and Linhardt stuck to Edelgard like a shadow.

Edelgard and Ferdinand drew their weapons and charged straight at Raphael. They were just about at the best spot to split their forces as it was, so Byleth veered off to the west, Bernadetta in tow. Raphael was focused on Edelgard and Ferdinand’s offensive, so it looked like she was in the clear to flank around and take Lysithea unawares. She ran along, when all of a sudden she and Bernadetta tumbled into a pit trap. 

Time lurched to a halt as Byleth swore under her breath. Claude’s traps never extended out _this_ far. Perhaps not having his regular units really made him reconsider his tactics? Rewinding, she gently steered herself and Bernadetta around the pitfall trap, then stopped. She frowned, wondering how much of this ground was trapped. Turning to Bernadetta, she said “Hey Bernie, I got a bad feeling. I’m going to prepare a small Fimbulvetr spell - can you shoot it once it gets out ahead of us? I’d like to check for any traps ahead.” She quickly pointed out the trajectory she would be sending ice out in, and dropped back behind Bernadetta once she released the spell. Bernie’s arrow struck true, and a flurry of ice shards rang out from the point of impact. Byleth sucked in a breath as she watched the shards trigger trap after trap. Claude was uncannily prepared for her normal angle of attack…

She’d have to think about it later, as the loud pop of ice breaking apart had gotten Lysithea’s attention. The small mage started hurling a barrage of Miasma spells at her and Bernie, and without the Sword of the Creator to neutralize Dark magic, Byleth would just have to improvise. She prepared to dodge and drag Bernie around with her, but just as the spells were about to reach her, a Wind spell raked across the field. It was quite powerful, perhaps equal in strength to a Cutting Gale despite looking for all the world like a basic Wind spell. She looked to its source, and saw Linhardt, tome open and mouth busy reciting from the specialty tome. She smirked - Claude wasn’t the only one with a secret weapon or two.

The powerful Wind magic sliced through the orbs of Miasma, and dissipated them harmlessly. Ordering Bernie to start firing, Byleth sprinted toward Lysithea, who suddenly looked very alarmed. A couple blunted arrows hit her arms and shoulder, and Lysithea stumbled backwards, losing concentration. Byleth whipped the tip of her training sword under Lysithea’s chin - it was over for her. Begrudgingly, Lysithea walked off the field.

Lysithea was always a priority target, from the few, horrible times she had had to fight her _seriously_. In a battle to kill, ignoring Lysithea was a recipe for disaster. Now that she’d been taken out of play, Byleth was content to leave Claude and Hilda to their damn barricade while she rendezvoused with Edelgard and Ferdinand to take care of Raphael and then move on towards the Lions.

The sight she was welcomed with once she got over to them was less than ideal. Ferdinand was on the ground, clutching his side. Primal fear ripped through Byleth’s body, and she started reaching for the power to turn back time before she realized he’d just taken a body blow from Raphael’s giant fists, instead of a lance or an axe. Exhaling shakily, she made sure Ferdinand was able to stand, and he left the field with his head hung low. Racing over to Edelgard, she found her still in combat with Raphael - he had a couple gashes and dark bruises on his arms, testaments to Edelgard’s brute strength even with a wooden training weapon. A bruise showed on Edelgard’s face, too, but evidently she was still able to fight. With the four of them against him, however, Raphael realized he was outmatched. He called out “I yield! Geez Professor, you sure are strong! Wanna train with me some time?”, a big, goofy smile plastered on his face.

Raphael headed off, and Byleth checked Edelgard for injuries. Other than her bruising she was good to go, so the four of them quickly headed northeast toward the waiting Lions. She knew from experience that Dedue had poor magical resistance, so she made sure Linhardt knew to target him as soon as he showed up. Just then, arrows began to whiz past them, and Ashe came into view. Bernie was in rare form, and Byleth told her “Just like last time” before taking off at full tilt sprint at Ashe. The sight of the Ashen Demon sprinting at him with a sword unnerved the gentle young archer, and he took a couple blunted arrows to the chest as punishment for losing focus. Coughing, he raised his hand and yielded. Byleth gave him a once over with healing magic to make sure he was alright, then sent him off.

Just then, several things happened at once. The forest, which extended in front of them from the west and just barely ranged east of their position, burst into flames, and Dimitri, Dedue, and Mercedes ran pell-mell out of it. Mercedes looked terrified, and Dimitri looked… bad. That was a look that was not supposed to be on his face until he saw the flames at Remire. “ _Fire must be a trigger for him…_ ” Sothis mused. 

The four of them readied themselves to fight, but it really didn’t feel like the right time to fight the Lions with the forest burning. Even so, Dedue and Dimitri were charging, so they had no choice. Linhardt readied another powerful Wind spell, and in a moment had knocked Dedue flat on his back, the large white-haired man gasping at the impact. He was out of the fight, and he knew it. Dimitri locked in combat with Byleth, and she was unnerved to see how angry he was.

“Dimitri…” she began, dodging his erratic lance swings as best she could. “What _happened?_ Why’s the damn forest on fire?” She blocked a swing, feeling her whole arm reverberate with the force behind it. “ _Claude_ ”, he growled out. “That dastard…” They fought in silence for a few moments, Byleth trying to come up with an idea of how to handle this situation. Finally, one hit her.

“Look, Dimitri. I know we’re supposed to be fighting right now, but if you’d let me go over to the forest and make yourself busy with Edelgard for a minute, I can get those flames doused. I can tell they’re bothering you.” She tried to keep her voice and expression soft, but it was difficult in the middle of battle. Still, it worked - her kind words got through to Dimitri, and he paused, looking ashamed of his loss of control. He nodded wordlessly, and she put a hand on his shoulder. “It’ll be okay, alright? This isn’t going to end badly. I give you my word.” She gave him a small smile before dashing towards the forest, calling for Linhardt to follow her.

Dimitri and Edelgard met on the field at last, but she had no quips for him like she had probably meant to. She could see how the flames upset him, and in one of the kindest things she had done toward him in the short time they had been at Garreg Mach, she gave him a duelist’s salute. He smiled faintly, and they began their duel, lance and axe whirling through the air and cracking against each other with crest-fueled strength.

Mercedes ran over to join Byleth, Bernadetta, and Linhardt. “Oh dear, Professor! I yield, but I’m so glad you’re here. This fire is out of control!” Concern bled through her normally ethereal voice. Byleth nodded, then gathered the three of them in a huddle.

“Here’s the plan,” she began, adopting her “general voice”, as Edelgard had teasingly called it in a previous lifetime. “I can douse these flames with Ice magic, but only in a small area, probably a few square meters at most. Linhardt, if we combined our efforts, we could whip up something akin to a wide-range Blizzard spell, which we could probably manipulate to cover most of the trees.” He nodded grimly, letting out a weary sigh. “Bernie, I want you to stay behind us so none of the blowback hits you.” Bernie nodded nervously. “Mercedes, I need you to use a sustained healing spell on Linhardt while we’re doing this. He’s low on energy, and his Wind is going to be required for this plan to work.” The older student nodded, white light gathering in her hands as she prepared herself. Looking between them, Byleth felt that familiar, deep-set protective _yearning_ bubbling up in her. Steel in her voice, she addressed them all again. “I _will_ keep you all safe. Don’t worry.”

She couldn’t have imagined that she would be using her Ice magic to fight a forest fire when she managed to learn a little from Marianne in another one of her lifetimes. She smiled, imagining what that version of Marianne would say to her about this. She pushed magic out, but the resulting Fimbulvetr was much smaller than she meant it to be. Frowning at the size, she did something she hated doing and reached for the power of the Crest of Flames. Energy coursed through her veins, and her whole body felt like it was burning, but she had the boost she needed. Pushing as much power out as she could, her spell quintupled in size, now covering a sizable area by itself. Linhardt had been waiting, and whipped the Ice magic up into a veritable hurricane as he pushed his magic to the point of breaking. Mercedes poured energy into him just _slightly_ faster than he was burning it, which was good - had it been the other way around, he’d be a wreck afterwards. Together, the three of them summoned a gigantic snowstorm, ripping through the trees, extinguishing the flames, and freezing the ground solid beneath it.

Edelgard and Dimitri were both gasping for breath, having fought each other hard, when the giant spell ripped through the landscape behind them. Their weapons dropped to the ground, forgotten, as they stared in awe. Dimitri broke the silence between them, his voice small. “Just who _is_ this professor of yours?” Edelgard had no answer. 

A horn sounded off in the distance - it seemed that the church was calling for an end to the mock battle. Byleth scanned the frozen remains of the forest, finding a soot-stained, battered, but still living Claude, shielding Hilda from the storm that had ripped through. She grabbed him by the collar, and hissed into his ear “We are having _words_ about this later, Claude von Riegan. I don’t know what the hell your game was, but you took it too far this time.” Claude looked up at her, an angry scowl on his face. “You’re one to talk about _games_ , Teach. But sure. Let’s talk later about ‘ _this time_ ’. I’m sure that’ll be enlightening…” His eyes flashed dangerously, and Byleth’s blood ran cold.

\---

Bereth ran up to find Byleth carrying a weakened Linhardt with the help of Dimitri, Edelgard supporting Hilda, Claude glaring at Byleth, Bernadetta and Mercedes walking in silence next to one another, and Hanneman and Manuela bickering in the rear. Those two must not have been in the thick of the battle. “ _Goddess…"_ , he thought to himself.

The concern on his face was matched by his sister, but she gave him a nod that let him know that they were all at least physically unharmed. He breathed a sigh of relief. Rousing himself to his official capacity, he stood up straight, and addressed the group in front of him. “Everyone, it warms my heart to see you all alive and unharmed. When we saw the fire, and then that storm, we all feared the worst.” Clearing his throat, he ran his hand through his hair.

“There will be time to figure out who caused the fire, and punishment will be meted out as necessary, but for now, I am glad you are all alright. With that said, we must now declare a winner of this battle, despite its odd end.” Glancing around at the numbers of each house still standing and those who had made their way back to join their fellows next to him at the observation point, it was clear - his sister had done good work. Smiling at her, he addressed the gathered houses. “By count of standing combatants left on the field, the winner of this mock battle is the Black Eagle house! Congratulations, all, and well done to all participants.”

The students separated out into their respective houses, and Bereth motioned for the professors to follow him. The four of them walked a short distance away, and Bereth turned to look at them. Manuela wouldn’t meet his gaze, which confirmed his suspicion. He sighed, and then spoke to her in a gentle tone. “It was Claude, was it not?”

Manuela swore loudly, then finally met his gaze. “Yes…” she sighed out, “yes, it was. I _told him_ , several times in fact, not to do anything dramatic during this battle. Then he goes and sets the damn woods on fire… Ugh. I need a drink…” Hanneman tutted, but patted her arm sympathetically.

Byleth looked thoughtfully up at Sothis, who had appeared next to Bereth, pantomiming leaning on his shoulder. They both looked exhausted, and he shot Byleth a concerned look. Sothis whispered in his ear, perhaps forgetting she couldn’t be heard by anyone but the twins here: “ _She used the power of her crest to magnify the intensity of her magic… Oh, hold on a moment, we haven’t told you about her crest yet. Hmm. Well, later then. Suffice it to say, using her crest is taxing, though it allows for things like the storm you saw._ ” He nodded, feeling awed that his sister possessed that kind of raw power. 

Byleth broke the small silence that followed. “I will say… I’m impressed that he had the time to dig all those pitfall traps _and_ rig the forest up like that. I wonder how long he’s been working on it?” Manuela groaned loudly. “Pitfalls, too?! Goddess above it’s like he’s _trying_ to make me drink…” Bereth was reasonably sure everyone present shared his thoughts on how little it took to “make” Manuela drink, but they all let the comment slide by as everyone began the walk back up to Garreg Mach, exhausted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like the idea of Byleth collecting magic like she collects random bits of knowledge or lost items. At this point in the story, she knows a lot of Fire magic, Thunder magic, Wind magic, some Light magic, and some White magic. She's not *too* good at Ice spells, and can't use Dark spells, but that's already an impressive array, so it's not as though she needed them. Also, I love the idea of Byleth wearing Sothis like a hat in battle.
> 
> I've written several chapters in a very short amount of time - I never did know how to manage my time well. I want to say for *my* sake that things will slow down soon, but as long as I've got the words flowing I may as well keep going, yknow?
> 
> Edited on 01/02/21 for consistency and quality.
> 
> Edited on 03/09/21 for formatting and consistency.


	6. Almyran Blues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claude gets chewed out, the beginnings of the squad assembles, and we find that at least *someone* in Garreg Mach is having fun with all this drama.

As they reached the great portcullis that allowed passage through the inner walls to Garreg Mach monastery proper, Claude watched silently as several knights joined up with the group of students and professors, flanking them on both sides. He could only assume that they were there because of him.

He could admit that he’d over-extended a bit, but if this gambit worked… Maybe he could finally get some answers. His eyes flickered to the two blue-haired figures walking at the head of the column a few steps ahead of him, and he repressed the urge to scream.

As they passed into the entrance hall, the other students began to peel off one by one. He was under the impression that that was not allowed for him, something that was confirmed as Manuela laid her hand on his arm. Her grip was much firmer than he’d imagined. Byleth sent Edelgard away as well - their little group was now him, her, Manuela, and “Dean Bereth”. And the goon squad of six knights, of course. Mustn't forget them. Byleth turned around, and looked him in the eye, a mixture of anger and sadness evident in her blue eyes. Gods above, it was like a knife in his gut, staring into those eyes!

As their somber foursome passed through the hall up toward the gardens, he heard one of the soldiers on duty cracking wise about him. Some tired, racist stereotype joke, of course - these people had no better material than that despite years of war with Almyra. It was almost sad. Of course, had he been younger, that kind of comment would probably have _really_ gotten under his skin, but there was no need to act right now. Besides, chances were that soldier would get k--

A loud _crack_ echoed out in the hall. Following the noise, he turned to see Byleth standing with her arm poised to strike again with a furious look on her face, and a soldier lying on the ground clutching his face. She bent down, and started whispering into his ear, and judging by the growing terror on his face it was _not_ sweet nothings. Standing, she addressed all the rank and files, who had turned to watch with interest. “If I ever hear _any_ of you peddling racist tripe like that again, I will make you wish you had never been born. Ask your friend here if you want to know how it’ll happen before it does.” Her voice was cold, that old “Ashen Demon” schtick out in full force. The men probably wouldn’t have cared all that much if Jeralt hadn’t picked that very moment to wander into the hall. Glancing at Byleth, he gave a nod, and boomed out, “My daughter’s being nice. Don’t make me spell out what’ll happen if _I_ catch you talking that way. Return to your posts, now.”

Claude couldn’t help but smile a little. Maybe his Byleth was in there after all.

\---

Byleth was concerned. Manuela’s presence, while appropriate, meant that she’d never be able to talk to Claude like she needed to. The five of them were in Jeralt’s office, and he’d been slowly working out a timeline of Claude setting up all his schemes for the mock battle. He had been _busy_ , it turned out, working on the pitfalls for three days. The fire was a more “spur of the moment” decision, but when she’d asked him to clarify what that meant, he jabbed his eyes towards Manuela and winked. It was all she could do to stop herself from groaning aloud in frustration. Then, a thought hit her like a lightning bolt - Sothis could talk to more than just her and her brother!

She gave the little goddess a mental nudge. “ _Hey, sorry to bother you - I know you’re resting. I’ve got an idea to get Claude to talk. It’s not a great one, but it’s the best plan I can come up with on short notice. Can you go find Flayn, and get her to come ask for Manuela? We just need five minutes to talk to Claude without Manuela here to interfere. I’d like to get Dad out of the room too, but beggars can’t be choosers…"_

Sothis stared back at her, thinking. Finally, she nodded, saying “ _So long as she is nearby, I should be able to do it. I can sense her presence, I think… I guess we’ll probably need to talk about that some time, right?”_ Giving her a shrug, Sothis winked out of existence. Bereth looked confused, and Byleth shook her head. Jeralt looked between the two of them and sighed. Claude, however, looked pleased as could be for some reason, which only served to make Manuela angrier.

Manuela was in the middle of trying to guilt trip Claude about how his schemes could have seriously hurt someone when a knock rang out on Jeralt’s office door. Standing on the other side was Flayn, who was trying her hardest to not look like she was having the best day of her life. “Professor Manuela! Come quick! Lorenz and Leonie are fighting on the lawn of the Officer’s Academy! With lances!”

Byleth was completely taken aback by this news. What in the world had Sothis told her to do? Manuela swore very loudly, much to Flayn’s joy, and tore out of the room with the green-haired mischief-maker in tow after informing her house leader that he was not off the hook yet. No sooner had the door clicked shut than Byleth and Bereth jumped up, casting Muffling on the walls. Sothis reappeared and settled next to Claude on one of Jeralt’s couches, smiling like a cat that got into the cream. 

Their eavesdrop-proofing complete, the twins rounded on Claude. It was time, and Claude, it seemed, knew that it was finally safe to talk openly. He sighed deeply, rubbing his temples. Then, he broke his silence.

“Long time no see, Teach. Gotta say, I like your hair better like this. Green’s just not your color. Too ‘scheming archbishop’ for my tastes.”

“Shit.”

Fear gripped Byleth’s chest, squeezing her like a vise. Claude… remembered things? _Why the fuck did Claude remember things?!_

Her legs gave out, and she slid to the floor. Bereth gave a start, and he went to pull her back up, but she waved him off. Her mind was swimming. What lifetime was this Claude from? How much did he remember? If he was from her last one… She shuddered, knowing that if her worst fears were realized, Claude knew everything about her _quite_ intimately, including her habit of talking to Sothis, though he’d never seen it happen while she was still around to talk to. Perhaps that was why…

She shook her head - time was wasting.

She got up, crossed the room, and sat down opposite Claude. Sothis floated over to her for support, and she flashed her a weary smile. Then, fixing her gaze on Claude, she said “You’re going to tell me everything you know that you shouldn’t know yet, right now. We’ve got about four minutes. Get talking.”

He smirked, but if he was going to make a joke and waste time, he clearly thought better of it. “Well…” he sighed as he leaned forward, settling in for a long haul. “Let’s see. I’m six years too young. You snore. I miss my beard, and my wyvern. And my kingdom. You shouldn’t have a twin brother. You _should_ be teaching _my_ class, not Edelgard’s. Do I need to mention the elephant in feathered armor with that situation, by the way? Just wondering.” He scratched his chin. “Since your hair is still blue, I’m guessing your little divine friend is hovering somewhere next to you right now, probably giving me a dirty look. I’m not sure how much I can say. Never time traveled before. Although...” He paused, then said in a low tone, “You want me to keep going? I can bring out the juicy stuff, but dear old dad there probably doesn’t want to hear that.”

She immediately blurted out “No, no no no, no, that’s enough! We’re good. Fuck’s sake…” Bereth paled, and almost looked like he was about to chastise her for language, but thought better of it. She sat there for a moment, working out a strategy. There was only one way to do this in the time they had, as much as she disliked it. Nodding, she looked up at her father, who was bewildered and clearly angry at Claude’s implications. “Dad. We can talk properly about this another time, and I promise we will, but right now it’s important to get the four of us on the same page. I…” Her voice faltered. She hadn’t wanted to do this, not yet. Damn Claude!

Bereth laid a gentle hand on her upper back, rubbing in circles, and released a small healing spell. She let it wash over her, then breathed deeply to prepare.

“Okay. I’m ready. The _extremely_ short version is… When I was born, I was a stillbirth. Rhea took Sitri’s heart, which was actually the Crest Stone of the Crest of Flames, which I bear, and implanted it into me, and I came to life. Dad, before you get angry, Sitri asked her to. So don’t go barging into Rhea’s study waving a sword around over it. You’d get executed, and I’d have to rewind time, and I’m _exhausted_ right now so I don’t even know if I could do it right... Ah, er, that’s right. I can rewind time, because of the Crest Stone. The Crest Stone is also why you remember me as being emotionless growing up. It also houses... “ She paused, ready to sound completely insane. 

“It houses the consciousness of Sothis, the goddess. Of, er, Fodlan. She talks to me a lot, and I talk to her. She’s actually sitting next to me right now, not that any of you besides Bereth can see her… Anyway, in my first lifetime, you died, and I chased after the bitch that killed you and fell into a trap. The only way out of it was for Sothis to merge herself with me, and I got all these powers over time. And then to make a _longer_ story short, a continent-wide war broke out, and a lot of my students died. I wanted to make things right, to keep them alive… So I kept rewinding and trying things again. Eventually, I settled into a routine of rewinding all the way back to that night in Remire village when we first met Edelgard, Dimitri, and Claude. I’d live those events over again, trying different things, and ultimately still losing people because it’s fucking _hard_ to juggle all the details. I’ve done it a lot, now. Claude here has memories, I think, from the last time I did this, when, as he said, I chose the Golden Deer to teach.”

Gasping for a breath, she immediately launched back into her tirade. “This time, something went _weird_ , or well… weirder than normal for me. Suddenly, Bereth exists where he never had before, and Sitri - should I call her ‘Mother’? Is it strange that I don’t? - had twins, and Claude _for some fucking reason_ remembers the last time I tried to save everyone, and I… and I…” She was hyperventilating now, and at some point she had started to sob. Her body was shaking, and the Crest of Flames was pumping energy into her without her calling on it. 

“ _Byleth! Please calm down! Focus on the sound of my voice! It’s okay, I promise. Just breathe.”_

Her breath came in spurts, and now she felt chills - the power of her crest stopped coursing through her, and it left her shaking. Her eyes rolled back into her head, and she lost consciousness for a moment.

When she came to, Jeralt, Bereth, and Claude were huddled around her, concern evident on their faces. She was still shaking, but she felt better.

“Hey, By… You doing okay now?” Jeralt’s voice was low, and warm. She pushed herself up onto her elbows - at some point they’d laid her down on the couch - and nodded her head.

Now that the truth was in the open, she didn’t have to hide talking to Sothis, so she looked around for the little goddess, and asked her, “How much time do we have left?” To Jeralt and Claude, it probably looked like she was speaking to empty air. 

Sothis’ voice was soft and soothing as she responded. “ _Longer than we initially thought. Evidently the little one did not lie to Manuela. I have asked her to give me a warning when Manuela gets back to the base of the stairs. Assume we have another five minutes, but be ready to cut things off early if I say so.”_ Byleth nodded, and relayed the message to the half of the room that couldn’t hear her speak.

Jeralt groaned. “Wait a minute, you kids got Flayn involved in this too? Agh… Seteth’s going to be such a pain in my ass over this…” Despite his griping, he shot Byleth a small smile. “But, it was quick thinking. Good job, kid. Now…”

The room was awkwardly silent for a moment. 

Bereth spoke up, surprising everyone. “So… Sister, does this mean you’ve got more helpers for your plan?” He looked between Claude and Jeralt expectantly.

Jeralt, of course, nodded immediately. “I know this is a lot, and I do want to talk more with you about it some time, but for the time being I know everything I need to. Hell, I could know less and I’d still help. You can count on me, kid.”

Claude looked pensive. He rubbed his neck, obviously trying to stall while he thought, but eventually he sighed and looked Byleth in the eye. “I can help you _some_ , but… Byleth. You can’t seriously be thinking about siding with Edelgard, can you? You’ve seen what she wants! What she’s willing to do to get it! How can someone supposedly dedicated to keeping people alive even entertain that thought?!”

Byleth laughed, bitterly. “Oh, Claude... Believe me, you’re not saying anything I haven’t already said to myself. But honestly, this is the best way to do things. _Everything_ I try when I side with Rhea, or with Dimitri, or even with you… It always ends in failure, at least by how I define failure. The cost of our victories on those paths is too high. Believe it or not, I _can_ sway Edelgard to a more peaceful path. I’ve done it with some limited success in the past, and I’ve been refining the ideas behind it. I can feel it in my bones that this was the right choice this time. Please…”

She paused, uncertain. Was she really going to play this card? She hated the idea of manipulating Claude like this, but she _had_ to be sure he was on her side.

“Claude.” Her voice was soft. His squirming beneath her gaze told her he knew what she was about to say. “If your feelings were true back in your last lifetime, if it meant anything to you… Please help me to do this.”

His eyes narrowed, but he didn’t look away. She held in a breath, waiting for his answer.

“...fine. You didn’t have to twist the knife that hard, you know. I’m in, at least for now. Let’s stop a war.”

\--- 

Manuela returned shortly afterwards, looking the most out of sorts Byleth had ever seen her while she was still sober. Before Manuela really had even entered the room, Byleth took her aside, and explained that the three of them had given Claude a very stern talking to, and he’d given them his word that he would never pull such a stupid, dangerous stunt like that again against his fellow students. He nodded along from the couch, looking _very_ sorry indeed. The relief on Manuela’s face was palpable, and with one final “You’d better fly right!” sort of a threat, she retreated to the safety of her office, no doubt for a little liquid therapy.

Just when Byleth was about to turn back to her co-conspirators, Flayn stuck her head around the doorframe. Her face was one of pure _triumph_ , and Byleth couldn’t help but laugh. Flayn’s smile lit up even brighter when she saw Sothis floating over to take a look at her progeny, and, fearing Flayn’s exuberance would summon Seteth like some sort of magical siren, Byleth ushered her inside and shut the door.

As Flayn jabbered up at what Jeralt and Claude would think was empty air, she whispered to both men about how Flayn could see Sothis, but didn’t know that _that_ is who Sothis was. Claude got a strange look in his eye, and addressed Flayn. “Thanks for the quick thinking, _Flayn_ ,” he said genially. “Sure was handy you and Teach and Teach’s little magic gremlin can talk telepathically. Say, how’s the family? _Seteth_ treating you right?” 

Time lurched to a halt as Sothis angrily threw herself at Claude, passing through his head harmlessly. In a huff, she snarled at the twins: “ _I’m turning time back, and one of you is going to punch this irritating boy before he harms this sweet child!_ ” Not looking to argue, and half thinking it was a good idea, Byleth instead opted for a more stealthy approach - when Claude got that look in his eye again, he quickly found a dagger at his ribs. In a low whisper, she informed him in no uncertain terms that her “little magic gremlin” was very unhappy with what he was about to say. His eyes widened, but he thankfully didn’t test her resolve on the issue.

Realizing she should do something to ensure that Flayn didn’t mention this little episode to Seteth, Byleth cleared her throat, breaking Flayn’s attention on Sothis’ form. “So…” she started in, thinking quickly. She glanced between her co-conspirators, and inspiration struck. “You’ve done us a great service, and since you’ve even been kind enough as to not ask what any of it was about, I figure you deserve a reward. The three of us” - she gestured towards Jeralt and Bereth - “are all very enthusiastic about fishing. What if I were to expand your fishing training to include the man who taught me, and the monastery’s best self-taught angler as well?”

Byleth didn’t think Flayn’s eyes could get any bigger, but she was proven wrong as the girl clapped enthusiastically. Putting a hand on her shoulder, Byleth continued in what she hoped was an appropriately warm, but firm, voice. “They’re both obviously busy men, busier than I am, but I’m sure they would be able to make time every now and then… As long as you don’t mention today’s events to your brother. Does that sound fair?” 

A mischievous smirk bloomed on her face (which Byleth figured must be hereditary for how much it reminded her of Sothis), and Flayn gave her solemn oath that she wouldn’t tell Seteth she’d had fun as a spy that afternoon in exchange for more instruction in “the venerable and most hallowed art” of fishing. Then, unexpectedly, she reached up and hugged Byleth hard around the neck, before excusing herself and darting off.

Face slightly red, she turned back to her co-conspirators. Letting out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, Byleth decided that today had already been long enough. She hugged her father and brother goodbye, hissed in Claude’s ear that he was not to bother Flayn under any circumstances, and begged her leave.

\---

Byleth practically sprinted towards the baths, wanting nothing more than a good soak to let her worries fade away, if only for a moment. She took the steps downwards three at a time, willing her body to go faster still. She was so preoccupied that she did not notice the shock of white hair standing in the hallway before it was too late - Edelgard and Lysithea were at the bottom of the stairs, talking politely, and she was going to run into one of them. Opting for the one she knew could swing a giant axe around in full plate without getting winded, she collapsed into Edelgard, falling over in a pile of limbs and hair.

Groaning from embarrassment more than pain, she extricated herself from Edelgard’s flustered form, reaching out her hand to pull the future emperor up off the floor. Appearing from nowhere, Hubert snarled at her, Dark magic crackling in his hand before he realized who had suddenly bowled Edelgard over. Looking back and forth between her contrite (if likely too amused for his liking) face and his liege’s steadily reddening one, the dark retainer let out a sigh, and waved his magic away. 

Finding her voice at last, Byleth addressed her sputtering house leader. “Edelgard! I’m so very sorry for that. I wasn’t looking where I was going at all, and then… Are you unharmed?” The concern in her voice was genuine, even if Byleth was enjoying this situation _immensely_. Edelgard, for her part, managed to squeak out “Yes, my teacher…” before Hubert broke into the conversation. 

His voice as menacing as he could muster on short notice, he growled out “You _will_ be more cautious around Lady Edelgard, or learn to regret your carelessness!” Edelgard raised a gloved hand, and Hubert’s further threats were silenced. Edelgard was clearly able to master her emotions decently well even this early on, as she was rapidly returning to her more austere persona. After clearing her throat, she spoke first to her retainer. “As I said, Hubert, I am unharmed. Please refrain from making threats for the moment.” Turning her attention to Byleth, she placed a hand on Lysithea’s shoulder, she continued. “Professor. Your performance in the mock battle was incredible. You led all of us well, meeting and exceeding my tactical expectations… To say nothing of your feat at the end.”

Byleth could tell that this had been something rehearsed by the two young women, and Edelgard smiled before continuing. “To demonstrate such extensive magical prowess, in addition to the martial prowess we already knew you to possess, is nothing short of extraordinary. In fact, some of the more magically-minded students have been abuzz about you.” Byleth allowed a small blush to creep onto her face - _goddess_ but Edelgard was charismatic when she needed to be. A small giggle rang out in her mind - Sothis was clearly enjoying the situation too.

“To that end, I would like to formally introduce Lysithea von Ordelia, of the Leicester Alliance. Lysithea?” Edelgard looked at her white-haired companion, who cleared her throat before fixing Byleth’s blue eyes with her pink ones. “Thank you, Edelgard. Professor, your masterful display of magic caught the attention of a lot of people, including myself. As I want to become as strong as I can during my brief time here at the monastery, I would like to formally request a transfer into the Black Eagle house.” A wide smile broke onto Byleth's face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're almost officially partially on our way to being in Chapter 2 of the game. Things from here will get a bit less intrigue heavy for now, as Byleth has a good core group. Think of it like a heist movie, where part of the fun is watching the team come together. Now, it's time to watch them work. (Edit: "things will get a bit less intrigue heavy for now", he said)
> 
> Also, Jeralt is a decent actor when he needs to be, but he is *not* going to let Byleth off the hook without getting some information from her. It's not every day you hear your daughter talk about your death as a motivating factor for apotheosis, after all.
> 
> Edited on 01/02/21 for consistency and quality.
> 
> Edited on 03/09/21 for formatting and consistency.


	7. Dreams and Waking Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth has a lot on her mind as the mission to Zanado looms, and Bereth makes a move

Morning came unbearably quick at Garreg Mach. It was something that Byleth knew she should be used to by now, but it always caught her off guard. Having had a few days off for the houses to rest since the unusual mock battle, Sunday had come again, and for Byleth, that meant it was time for some well-intentioned schemes to begin. 

Pulling her coat on and making sure her dagger was in place - not that anyone had ever been foolish enough to attack her at Garreg Mach before, or that she _needed_ a weapon to defend herself with - she rolled her shoulders, planning out her day while fiddling with some scrap paper on her desk. Perhaps a nice, quiet breakfast with her house, then a visit to Bereth or Father… She could roam the grounds looking for ways to ingratiate herself, like finding lost items, or settling arguments… At some point she was going to need to find Flayn and make good on her training… Maybe she’d have enough time to go into town to see if Jeralt’s preferred swill could be found above ground, so she could put off the testy first meeting she always had with the denizens of Abyss. Definitely dinner with some of her students needed to happen, although after the week they’d had she halfway wanted to suggest they all go out for drinks - Sothis tutted at her, muttering something about “corrupting the youth”.

A series of short raps at her door broke Byleth out of her reverie, and she opened it to reveal Cyril, standing there looking frightfully wide awake for this early in the morning. _Oh for the love of…_

Quickly slipping her impassive mask on, she addressed her unexpected caller. The boy was so _obviously_ Almyran, she thought as her eyes scanned his features, it was a wonder Claude was able to pull off his ruse of just being tanned from long hours “exploring nature’s splendor”. Shaking herself from her thoughts, she realized Cyril must have said something, and was waiting for a response. Damn.

“I’m sorry, Cyril, I was lost in thought. Could you repeat what you just said?” She allowed a sheepish smile to play across her features, hoping this would be enough to keep him from getting huffy. Church people _loved_ getting huffy if they thought you weren’t taking things seriously, and though Cyril was his own bizarre mix of personality traits, he had picked that one up from his time at the monastery. Any annoyance he felt right now, however, he kept tamped down. “Said, I gotta message for you from the advisor. Says he wants to meet ya bright and early this morning, in Lady Rhea’s office, and Edelgard too. I haven’t seen Edelgard though, and I’m really busy, so if you could find her and tell her, that’d be good.”

Ah. The best laid plans…

Thanking Cyril for delivering his message, Byleth quickly checked her appearance, then strolled with practiced grace towards the training grounds. At this time of morning, she was likely to find Edelgard working on her forms under Hubert’s watchful eye, and she was silently elated to see that she was correct. Time to ruin someone else’s morning…

Though, Byleth had to give her house leader quite a bit of credit. She didn’t complain once about having her plans disrupted, only allowing herself a quiet sigh before turning to accompany Byleth up towards the offices. Edelgard had always been the hardest to read when she was first starting out, but Byleth knew from experience that anything involving Rhea made Edelgard’s defenses slam down. Slowing their pace as they got to the base of the stairs that would take them to the second floor of the administration building, Byleth waved a hand to break her from her reverie.

The surprise on Edelgard’s face at being read correctly was always so cute. She looked utterly bewildered for a moment, before throwing on a practiced look of determined neutrality. Stifling a chuckle, Byleth spoke low, her voice near-conspiratorial. “I gather that you’re not much of a fan of her either, huh?” Bingo. Edelgard’s eyebrows flew towards each other, and she barely concealed a gasp. Continuing in her advantage, Byleth hummed, then said “I doubt we’re in trouble, unless you’ve been _very_ busy, so there’s no need to worry too much. Likely, it’s just a monthly mission for our class to undertake. Dean Bereth mentioned that all the houses do them, and this is probably where we get ours.”

Lilac eyes were searching her face now in earnest, but the Ashen Demon’s mask was not so easily penetrated. Edelgard swallowed, then nodded, evidently having lost her voice for the moment. Perhaps she might have pushed slightly too hard? She let out a small sigh, and then placed a conciliatory hand on Edelgard’s shoulder. Not too light, but not too heavy. Edelgard required precision. “I’m sorry. I get in strange moods in the morning. To make it up to you, I’ll do all the talking while we’re in there, unless Rhea asks you a direct question. Which I doubt will happen, so, don’t worry too much about it.” A pause. “I’ll be sure to keep you safe.” It took all that was in her to not give a wink - goddess, she had spent too long with Claude recently.

Sothis giggled, clearly enjoying the subterfuge, but Byleth ignored it for the moment. Edelgard continued searching her face for a few moments more, then gave a faint nod. Good. A painless victory already. Now for Rhea.

\---

Knocking three times on the great wooden doors, she heard Seteth call for her to enter. Sweeping towards Rhea’s office with Edelgard in tow, she saw the green-haired advisor standing straight as an arrow to one side of the inner door, and her brother doing his best to mirror the exacting posture of a man who likely had not allowed himself a moment of fun in the last thousand years. She hadn’t counted on Bereth being at the meeting, but in hindsight it made sense - he was her supervisor, and would need to be kept up to date with her class’ missions anyway. She, Bereth, Seteth, and Edelgard moved into the smaller office off the main audience chamber, finding Rhea already hard at work on something at her desk. Hearing them approach, she smiled serenely, and an odd smell began to waft through the air. Incense? 

Her curiosity had to wait, as Rhea began speaking.

“Ah, Professor. It is good to see you on this fine morning. I must say, your work with the students during the mock battle was remarkable. Not to mention the way you took command of the situation regarding the unfortunate... overzealous preparation by the Golden Deer. Jeralt has trained you well, to be able to respond almost preternaturally to any situation.” She nodded her head regally, as if she hadn’t just laid the bait of a lifetime in front of her. Byleth was smarter than that, though.

“Thank you, Your Grace. Father has taught me much in our time together, but among his most important lessons was when to trust instinct.” Parry. 

Rhea smiled beatifically, folding her hands. “We must surely give thanks to the Goddess that he was thoughtful enough to impart such an important lesson to one so young. Indeed, I must give him my thanks as well, some time.” Riposte.

Glancing around the room, Seteth was barely concealing a scowl as he watched the exchange before him, Bereth looked confused that the archbishop was attempting to bait information out of them in a mission briefing, and Edelgard had clamped down on her mask of neutrality. Pity, she couldn’t get away with a comforting hand here.

“Of course,” Seteth broke in, unable to contain himself any longer, “the mock battle was intended as mere practice. The real test of your abilities as a teacher will be the Battle of the Eagle and Lion, which takes place during the Wyvern Moon. Dean Bereth can give you more information regarding that, but, a word of warning if I may? Do not let your successes here go to your head. The Battle is one of the academy’s long-held traditions, and it would not do for you to embarrass the Academy, your students, or yourself.”

Byleth couldn’t see a way around his chastisement, so she merely nodded. He was _much_ more pleasant to deal with after she saved Flayn. Just then, she noticed Sothis floating closer and closer to Seteth’s face. She had an unreadable expression on her small face, and Byleth hoped silently that she wouldn’t cause trouble.

Rhea cleared her throat quietly, returning the room’s attention to her. “As for today, I have called you here to tell you of your mission for the month ahead. Your class is to dispose of some bandits causing trouble nearby.” The venom in the way she spoke of those bandits always struck Byleth. This, in hindsight for her disastrous first lifetime, probably should have been a warning to the archbishop’s true nature.

Seteth spoke up again, adopting a well-practiced speech she was certain had been given to many different professors across the years. “Those affiliated with Garreg Mach Monastery have a moral obligation to help those in need, regardless of social standing….” Byleth suppressed an exasperated sigh. There was no stopping him once he got going about good morals and the expectations and responsibilities of professors and students at the monastery. She was vaguely aware of Seteth getting to the “you must provide your students with practical experience” part of this speech, when Sothis found her voice after being _worryingly_ silent. “ _Cichol…_ ”

Seteth froze, his eyes widened, and what little color was in his cheeks to begin with faded instantly. Rhea shot him a look of concern, but evidently she had not heard Sothis speak. What an ironic relief that was. Evidently trying to interrogate him with her eyes, an awkward silence filled the room for a moment, until Flayn walked in. “Brother, I was wondering if I might-- oh!”

Great.

Her big, green eyes focused instantly on Sothis, floating next to her father. She slid her eyes to him, concern etching itself on her normally cheerful features. Finally, she looked to Rhea, who now wore an intense expression after seeing Flayn staring at blank space before looking at Seteth.

Her voice had a hint of ice to it, and she reluctantly looked away from Flayn to fix Byleth in a dangerous glare. “Professor. I am afraid that I must retire for a moment. Dean Bereth can give you the full details of your quarry. In his office.” And just like that, the twins and Edelgard were unceremoniously removed from both Rhea’s office and audience chamber. Sothis had not followed them, and Bereth looked worried. Even though Edelgard was with her, she couldn’t just ignore her brother’s plight, could she?

Surprisingly, it was Edelgard who broke the uneasy silence they had fallen into. “My teacher. If it is merely bandits, we should be more than a match for them. Even so, the last time we fought such ruffians, you saved me. Maybe this time I can return the favor? If you’ll pardon me, though, I fear I must take my leave. Good day Professor, Dean Bereth.”

Edelgard walked away, down the stairs, likely to report the strange end of their meeting to Hubert and begin speculating on possible causes or meanings. Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Byleth put her hand on her brother’s shoulder, steering him towards their father’s office. It was closer, and had much less chance of having snooping Agarthans near it than his own.

“Hey, kids, what’s going--” was all that Jeralt had time to get out before Bereth let out a huge, shuddering sigh. Byleth began their customary Muffling barrage, forcing her brother to sit with her free hand. Satisfied, she joined him, and motioned for Jeralt to join them on the other couch.

He cocked an eyebrow, waiting for one of them to speak up. Byleth found her voice first, saying simply, “Rhea.” Jeralt’s expression darkened. He began to rub the back of his head. “Damn it all, what’d she do to you two?” Anger was barely concealed in his voice, probably from her ill-timed confession a few days previous.

“Not her, specifically. It was Sothis.” Bereth’s voice was shaky, but hearing him speak meant he was probably alright. Probably. Jeralt’s eyebrows shot up, but he was clearly being patient, waiting for more information. Byleth’s turn to speak, now. “She, uh… Well, she spoke to Seteth. Just one word, actually, but of course that was the one word he’d actually hear, and the damn fool fell apart…” Byleth trailed off darkly. “Then Flayn walked in, looked right at where Sothis was, and from Seteth being a wreck and Flayn staring at nothing, Rhea got suspicious, and more or less threw everyone but them out. Even her guards were told to wait outside in the hall.”

Jeralt sighed, reaching for his flask. “Father.” Byleth growled the word at him. “It’s eight in the morning.”

Before he could argue, Sothis popped into the room, causing both twins to gasp. Byleth was irate - she jumped up, nearly shouting. “ _What_ were you thinking?! It’s way, way too early on in our time here to give Rhea any reason to be suspicious! What if something had happened to y--” She caught herself, but the damage was done. She would hear about being _concerned_ later, likely as she tried to fall asleep, and almost certainly in a mocking tone. Byleth swore, eliciting a tut from her brother and a chuckle from her father.

“So, I take it your, uh… Friend, is here now?” He looked around the room as if acknowledging her would make her visible. The twins nodded. Bereth reached out a hand, pointing to Sothis as she hovered in place. “Ah. Thanks, kid. Uh… Hey there… goddess that lives inside my children’s heads. You doing alright? Kids said you were in a tight spot.”

Sothis laughed, sounding for a moment less like a tiny child cackling, and more musical and serene, like Rhea tried for. “ _Oh my. Quite the charmer, your father. Please inform him that I am fine, and appreciate his concern. Hmmm… Must be hereditary, no?_ ” She grinned down at Byleth, who flashed her a rude gesture in response. Byleth sighed, and relayed the message. Sothis and Jeralt exchanged pleasantries through Byleth for a moment longer, before she made to get up, forgetting that she hadn’t “officially” been given her mission yet.

“Sister, wait.” Bereth had also stood, and he’d taken her hand. His hand was warm, and felt soothing. “You didn’t let me tell you your mission details yet!” He looked a little put upon, and Byleth decided against reminding him that she had everything in her head already from prior experience. She nodded for him to go ahead. 

Clearing his throat, he explained that bandits had holed up in the ruins at Zanado, a church holy site. The Black Eagles were charged with exterminating the bandits on the church’s authority, and would be joined by a contingent of knights to ensure nothing went sideways. Nodding, Byleth excused herself, ready to go to breakfast and get on with her day.

Sothis followed her out, her grin showing teeth now. “ _So…_ Someone _was concerned for my well-being earlier…”_ She cackled, and Byleth had to fight very hard not to swear at the cursed little gremlin in public.

\---

Byleth settled into the easy routine she had lived countless times before, and before she knew it, the month was nearly gone. In less than a week’s time, she and the Eagles were going to begin the journey to Zanado, the Red Canyon. It was a short trip by comparison to some of the ones they would be making soon, but would still require an overnight stay. She announced their mission to the class on a Monday morning, five days from the 31st of the Harpstring Moon, when her gentle children would take lives for the first time. She had really come to hate the 31st of the Harpstring Moon.

They had all made good progress under her tutelage, of course, but nothing could prepare an innocent for the emotions that came with ending another person’s life for the first time. Part of her burned with rage towards Rhea, for forcing these sweet kids to lose their innocence like this. But… She knew from experience that trying to shield them from this only made them weak down the line. And weakness in war leads to tragedy. 

Something else pressed on her mind, though. Something more immediately concerning, as the lunch break rapidly approached. Byleth rarely had dreams of Sothis’ throne these days, since she could just talk to Sothis at any time, but she had had one out of the blue during the previous night. And in this familiar dream space, she was shocked to find that she and Sothis were no longer alone in the Holy Tomb. After a strange, echoing _pop_ , she whirled around, only to find Bereth in her mind.

He had looked at her, at Sothis, at the throne, then back to her. And then clapped his hands, oddly reminiscent of Flayn. “It worked! Incredible!”

“Oh my goodness, dear Sister, this is incredible! Please come by my office tomorrow and I’ll explain in more detail, but to make a long story short, I’ve managed to bridge the gaps between our shared dreams of this place via our shared blood. I may not have your Crest of Flames, but we share enough that I was able to penetrate the bounds of the liminal space, and now here I am! It’s magnificent!”

He had continued to crow excitedly, and Byleth, for all her magical knowledge, couldn’t follow a word of what he was saying. Evidently he’d forgotten that he was going to give her the long version in person. Eventually, Byleth woke with a start, and found Sothis staring at her, bemused. “...did my brother just invade my dreams?” was the only question that she had been able to voice at the time, and the two agreed that it was a very strange experience all around.

She decided that she would rather face this conversation on a full stomach, and ate a quick meal with Caspar and Ferdinand. The two of them looked contemplative, and through brief conversation she learned that while neither of them were strangers to combat, they had some trepidation about killing _people_. She gave them some quick reassurances, but saved most of her effort. It was useless to try to prepare them extra ahead of time - all of that would be thrown out the window the instant they were in a life-or-death situation, as cruel as it felt on this side of the event. Bracing herself, she left the dining hall and made her way through Garreg Mach’s labyrinthine corridors to her brother’s office.

Just before she entered the library, however, she was accosted by Hubert. He was in a foul mood, doubtless having met with Solon before speaking to her, but his demeanor was still very untrusting in general. She knew from experience that Hubert would never stop giving her this attitude until she had proven herself both to him personally and to Edelgard’s well-being specifically. Perhaps it was time to work on that.

“Hubert”, she began, cutting off what would likely have been some sort of threat to stay away from Edelgard. “Just the man I wanted to see.” His eyes widened for the tiniest fraction of a second before he regained composure. She’d successfully caught him off guard. Now, for the push.

“Do you recall last month, when you expressed interest in my… that is, Dean Bereth’s magical expertise?” He nodded slowly, likely running through possibilities for what her near slip of the tongue meant. “He’s had additional insights since then, and I wondered if you might like to meet with him. I’ve told him before that you have quite an aptitude for the more esoteric parts of Dark magic, and I think he’d enjoy speaking to you.”

Whatever Hubert had been expecting, she doubted that this was it. At the same time, Byleth was certain that the young dark mage would never be able to pass up this opportunity. Finally, Hubert nodded, remaining quiet and calculating. Perhaps he didn’t trust himself to speak and potentially ruin this sudden burst of good will?

Giving him a small smile, Byleth turned toward the library. “If you’ll wait outside for a moment I’ll let him know the situation. I’ve also got some small business to take care of with him, but it’ll be no more than a few minutes at most. I’ll let you know once he’s ready for you.” While he was probably loath to spend any more time near Solon, that hungry look had returned to him. 

Entering Bereth’s office, she immediately cast Muffling. Bereth looked up in alarm at the sound of magic, but breathed out a sigh of relief when it was only her. “Sister, please! You must announce yourself when you come in. You could frighten a man to death like that…” A smile on his face showed that he wasn’t truly angry, but Byleth wanted to tease him a little bit anyway. “I’ll stop letting myself into your office unannounced if you stop letting yourself into my dreams unannounced, brother dearest.”

He chuckled. “'Brother dearest'? What’s gotten into you today? And besides that, you _must_ admit that it is a feat of unprecedented importance that I managed to walk between dreaming minds. I am advancing the field of magical research almost single-handedly!” A manic gleam shone in his eye, and Byleth decided to slow him down before he really got involved with his explanation. “Bereth. I’m certain that what you’ve accomplished is impressive and all, but I was being somewhat serious. Dreams are one of my few sanctuaries. If you’re going to involve yourself in them, please ask me first, alright?”

His smile faltered. “Ah… Ah, well… I suppose you have a point. I’m sorry, I was so excited, I forgot to even extend you basic courtesy. I will do better in the future… Though, part of why I wanted to talk to you this morning was not about entering your dreams, but the implications therein. Do you have time?” He began shuffling papers around on his desk, looking for a set of notes among all the paperwork littering his desk.

Byleth shifted uncomfortably. She never really had the time to spend with him that he wanted, did she? Or rather, never _made_ the time.

She sighed. Despite her guilt, she really _didn’t_ have the time for this right now. “I’m sorry. Today is very busy. I actually have a student of mine waiting to talk to you after this, too… You remember that I have that sallow-looking dark mage in my house?” He nodded, hiding how crestfallen he was decently well. “Well, it’s him. If you wouldn’t mind, would you talk to him a little about your illusion magic? I don’t trust him to use it well yet, but as long as things go according to plan he’ll be a powerful asset with that in his arsenal.” She ran a hand through her hair, guilt growing. 

He stared at her. She could see him mulling it over in his mind, and hoped that the chance to share his theories with someone who could actually follow along was enough for him. Sighing, he nodded his head. “Yes, yes… I suppose I can do that. But, I want something in exchange.” She cocked an eyebrow. “Oh? And, what would that be?” Despite trying to appear slightly hurt by Byleth’s busyness, a little smile broke through onto his features, blue eyes twinkling. “Sothis.”

Confusion pushed out all thought, and even as Sothis appeared in the room, Byleth simply repeated after him. “Sothis? What about her?” Grin widening, Bereth launched into what was an obviously pre-planned speech. “While I understand that she stays with you most of the time, since _you’re_ the one who’s the vessel for her spirit and all, I’d still like to borrow her during the weekdays when you aren’t in imminent danger.” Turning to address the curious goddess, he continued. “I believe your control of time isn’t necessarily some form of divine power out of the reach of mere mortals, but perhaps an ancient and long-lost form of magic that I can bring back to life.” Standing, his voice built in bravado and fervor. “If I can unravel the secrets of this time-altering magic, just think of the good we can do! Think of the possibilities! You will consent to helping me, won’t you? Won’t you?”

The idea of not having Sothis around was terribly distressing to Byleth. And yet… Guilt at pushing her brother away except when she needed him to do something gnawed at Byleth’s mind. Looking over at Sothis, the two nodded. “Alright. I agree. Sothis?” Yawning, the little goddess looked at Bereth. “ _I suppose I agree as well. But you had best be respectful towards me while I am here, understand?_ ” 

Walking out of her brother’s office, Byleth gave a little smile to Hubert, and guided him to the door. As Bereth’s voice drifted out of the quickly-shutting door (“Ah, you must be _Hubert_ , a pleasure!”), Byleth began to walk back towards her classroom, feeling utterly alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never been totally sure how I envision the twins' connection to Sothis working. This chapter is in part an attempt to get my head around my working conception of it, and in part to give a bit of a breather before we jump into combat next chapter.
> 
> We'll get some more ghost mother-dragon son time soon, as well...
> 
> Edited on 01/02/21 for consistency and quality.


	8. Zanado

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Black Eagles fight their first real battle, and Byleth makes Edelgard feel all sorts of things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CN for depictions of violence - it's a battle chapter, after all.

Byleth stumbled along, feeling despondent. She had half a mind to cancel class for the rest of the day and go fishing - of her class, only Lysithea would likely be upset with her over it. The young mage’s introduction to her class had gone smoothly at first, but she’d had to step up her curriculum offerings a bit earlier than usual. Normally, she gave the Eagles a bit more relaxed of an academic curve, but Lysithea jumping ship early required an escalation in that timeline. If she didn’t give her challenging enough material, Lysithea might even become disillusioned and transfer back out - _that_ had been a shocker the first time it happened.

Byleth was so distracted by her thoughts and her loneliness that she very nearly ran into Edelgard, who had been waiting outside the classroom. After a quick apology, Byleth made to enter the classroom to get everything ready for the end of lunch, but Edelgard put a hand up.

“My teacher…” Lilac eyes looked at her face with concern, and she turned her eyes away to make sure they didn’t meet. “You look terrible. Are you alright?” A flicker of annoyance was quickly doused by a warm feeling - even this early on, Edelgard was trying to ensure she was okay. Sure, it was most likely because she was trying to get Byleth on her side for the war, but she would take comfort right now without much questioning. Still, though…

She gave a small, hollow laugh. “You really know how to make a girl feel special, Edelgard.”

Reducing the poor thing to a sputtering, red-faced mess was far too easy. She went to crack wise about it to Sothis, before realizing that Sothis wasn’t there. She sighed, and decided Edelgard didn’t deserve to be left like that. “I’m kidding. Although you should perhaps remember that no one likes to be told they look terrible, regardless of how accurate it is.”

Nodding furiously, Edelgard cleared her throat, obviously trying hard to master her emotions again. “My apologies, I was merely concerned. You seemed... downcast.” Byleth frowned. She was letting the mask slip far too early in the year. Making a mental note to work on it, she nodded, before adding, “It’s nothing you need to worry yourself over. I’m still able to do my job.”

The two were silent for a moment, Edelgard’s face pensive. Then: “Professor. Have you… you wouldn’t happen to have seen Hubert recently, would you?” Interesting. Was Edelgard…? Surely she couldn't already be mobilizing for Those Who Slither? No, it was too early for her to start making moves like that. Still, part of Byleth was curious what answering with the truth would bring. “Actually, yes. I just left him with my… er, with Dean Bereth. The two were going to have a talk about magical theory, or… something to that effect. It’s a bit over my head. I imagine he’ll be late to class.” Damn it. For all her harping on Bereth to not expose them, she was doing a fine job of it herself. Silently hoping Edelgard wouldn’t press on it, she finally met Edelgard’s gaze.

Unexpectedly, a smile was on her house leader’s face. “Ah, good. In that case, would you mind walking with me, professor? I have so little time that is outside of Hubert’s watchful eye…”

\--- 

Their walk had proven just what she needed to snap out of her sadness. The two had talked at length about absolutely nothing of importance, no longer two figures with the weight of the world on them for a brief moment. She was certain Sothis would have chided her about fraternization this early on in her mission, but Sothis wasn’t here, which meant she could be as carefree as she wanted. Edelgard likely thought the same thing, with her own perpetual shadow missing. The two of them walked the gardens until the bell signalling that classes had resumed sounded, and with an exchanged look of shock, they sprinted towards the Black Eagles’ homeroom. Smiling and out of breath, they arrived a few minutes late, much to Dorothea’s delight. 

Silently cursing herself for their lateness (“This is how rumors get started, fool!”), she took a brief visual attendance to find that Hubert was also missing. He wandered in about an hour late, causing no small stir. Dorothea was going to have a field day with all of this.

The week passed quickly, and before she knew it, Byleth, the Eagles, and a company of knights milled about the stables, nearly ready to set out toward their destination. Sothis was back with her, and all was right with the world for a brief moment. “ _Now, to put the plan into motion_ ”, she thought as she caught sight of just the man she’d been looking for.

\---

The Eagles arrived at Zanado several hours later. The sun was overhead, noonday heat building to a pleasantly warm temperature. Clouds floated lazily overhead, and at least until they reached the periphery of the canyon, the sounds of nature reigned supreme over the chatter of Edelgard’s classmates and the knights that accompanied them. As they grew closer and closer, things grew eerily quiet. Even the knights, who had been somewhat raucous on the way there, grew grim and still. It was as if a veil surrounded Zanado. Edelgard knew, from the history she had learned from Thales, while posing as her uncle, that Zanado had been a large settlement of the inhuman beings that now ruled Fodlan through the Church of Seiros, and that a massacre had taken place there in the distant past. 

Still, it was one thing to know a place’s history, and another entirely to set foot there. No bones littered the ground, and no traces of battle remained - after a thousand years, the site had doubtless been picked over time and again by the Church, by Thales’ ilk, and all manner of low-life bandits. And yet… A pervasive unease rested over the canyon. With every step they took, it grew. 

The knights soon took their leave of the Black Eagles, fanning out to maintain a perimeter. She saw the raven-haired Dagdan sniper, Shamir Nevrand, making her way to an outcropping that overlooked the valley. As they crested a small hill, the main bandit camp unfolded before them. All told, it was a pathetic display. Barely two dozen bandits, most of them spread out far too much to come together as a significant threat unless the professor severely miscalculated as she led them. 

Edelgard’s eyes searched for one particular bandit, however, and soon she’d spied him. Kostas. That fool had nearly gone too far. He was supposed to scare off the idiot academic that had been hired to teach at Garreg Mach, then get himself killed on the Knights of Seiros’ lances. Instead, she found herself facing down his axe, all thought of leaving noble hostages alive gone after his foolish pride was wounded by the professor tearing through his group. Jeritza’s place in the monastery would have been assured were it not for Kostas’ foolish mistake, and the professor’s unexpected intervention.

A grim smile played at Edelgard’s lips. The professor, at least, seemed like a potential asset, so it hadn’t been a total waste. Quite strong, obviously not in the pocket of Rhea or the Church, sharp-witted… She was more than Edelgard had dared dream she would turn out to be. She was easy on the eyes, too…

No. She shook herself from her thoughts. They were about to enter live combat, and combat was no place for frivolous distractions. Even if that distraction _did_ have legs that looked like a master sculptor had spent his life on them, and eyes she could imagine diving into… A hand on her shoulder brought her back to reality, red in the face. Hubert was there, as always, ready to do violence on her behalf. Glancing around to see if they were far enough from the other Eagles, she spoke in a low, hushed voice. “The other bandits mean nothing. We must silence Kostas here, before he has time to sell out the Flame--” Hubert squeezed her shoulder, and Edelgard looked up to see those blue eyes watching her.

Byleth strode over, hand on the pommel of her sword. Her voice was firm, not cold precisely, but… Detached. It was the strangest thing, how her moods shifted. Right now, her teacher sounded more like a hardened military veteran, perhaps General Bergliez, than the woman who spoke to every cat she met around the monastery like it was her child. Dimly, she was aware that Byleth had been speaking, but she only caught “...What do you think, Edelgard? Tactical survey?”

Clearing her throat and inwardly cursing her distractibility, Edelgard slid down her war mask. She was iron, she was flame. The fate of all Fodlan rested on her shoulders.

“Well… The whole valley appears to be a ruin of sorts. I noticed earlier that there was a complex further in. That’s like where their leader has run off to. I noticed two bridges leading to him, one north, and one west. If we split and advance tactfully, we can catch the enemy from both sides.” Glancing up at her teacher’s eyes, Edelgard watched as she digested this assessment. “I see. Good thinking, Edelgard.” Turning away, she let out a whistle, rounding the Black Eagles up.

Using her sword as a stylus, Byleth drew a rough map of the area in the dirt. A bridge led down to the camp proper, and this initial choke point was the first danger to overcome. She drew positions for them all. Edelgard, Ferdinand, Caspar, and the professor were going to make an initial push down the bridge. Linhardt and Dorothea were next, aiming to heal any wounds the front line suffered as they happened. In the rear, Hubert, Bernadetta, and Lysithea were to provide long-range cover fire. Petra was, as Byleth termed it “an option” - she was to start next to Dorothea and Linhardt, providing mid-range fire, and when one of the front line fighters fell back for healing, she was to draw steel and fill the gap in their ranks.

The plan seemed air-tight enough, and Byleth quickly moved to the second phase of their attack. Drawing on Edelgard’s tactical assessment, she divided the groups into two teams. Byleth would lead one group north, taking Caspar, Hubert, Linhardt, Petra, and Bernadetta. Edelgard’s group, which included Ferdinand, Dorothea, and Lysithea, would strike west. Ideally, the two groups would rendezvous south of the complex where Kostas was hiding, and cover all points of entry and exit.

Hubert shot her a worried look - under the professor’s watchful eye, he couldn’t slip off to kill Kostas before the main group showed up, and Edelgard’s smaller group, while likely able to move faster through the ruins, had the distinct disadvantage of less melee fighters and no archers. She would have to be at her best if they wanted to get to Kostas first.

Byleth did one final check of everyone’s weaponry, passed out vulneraries to everyone in case things went bad and they found themselves away from a healer, and gave a grim nod to Shamir, who the group could just barely see framed against a tree high above them. Edelgard’s eyes danced over the canyon wall, and for a brief moment thought she saw a figure making its way down towards the ruins by climbing the wall. A bizarre trick of the heat? She had no time to ponder further, as Byleth drew her sword and strode towards the bridge. The battle had begun.

\---

The bandits shouted back to one another, fear evident. The armed group of students didn’t worry them perhaps as much as it should, but the shining white armor of the Knights of Seiros who peeked over the rim of the valley struck terror into their hearts. Byleth almost felt pity for the poor fools, but they _were_ about to try to run her students through. Pity could wait until they were dead.

Without her proper sword, Byleth felt constricted in battle, like she was barely operating at half her best. Gripping the steel blade she’d gotten off an exotic goods merchant in the town at the foot of the monastery, she began to empty her mind. _I will not let them die. Not a single one will fall here_. Sothis hummed in agreement, settling into her place atop Byleth’s head. She looked left, at Ferdinand and Caspar’s grim determination and nervous energy, then right at Edelgard’s practiced focus. It was now or never.

She called the charge, and the Black Eagles swept into battle. Most of these bandits had axes, so everyone but Ferdinand was at least fighting on equal footing. Convincing Caspar to forgo his gauntlets for the initial push down the bridge had been more difficult than it ought to have been - the boy had no sense yet, something she had forgotten after dealing with the grown-up warrior she knew he would become. Still, he was almost as fearsome with an axe as Edelgard.

The initial wave, if it could even be called that, broke upon them. Ferdinand and Caspar teamed up, Ferdinand stabbing through their opponent’s thigh with his lance as Caspar swung in a blazing arc across his chest. Barely held together, the bandit hit the ground, and the two boys drew a shaky breath as they prepared for the next fight. Edelgard and Byleth each engaged another bandit separately, though since Edelgard’s had been an archer before the four of them overran his position, all he had to defend himself with was a short blade. With a sickening crunch, Edelgard’s axe buried in his chest, and he fell. Byleth adopted a dancer’s stance, whirling out of the way of the clumsy strike her opponent made, bringing her heavy blade down across his back. Three down.

Caspar, overeager as always, was the first to be injured. A lucky arrow found its mark in his left arm, and he obediently fell back to receive emergency treatment as Petra swept forward. Their forces were beginning to spread out across the small plain, and their back line finally crossed the bridge behind them. Lysithea in particular was hurling spell after spell - one had caught a man who was charging Edelgard in the chest, his body melting into the inky blackness of her magic. She had a greenish tint to her face, as if she was about to be violently ill. Bernie looked as if she was on the verge of tears, but her arrows were accurate as ever. 

Losing herself in the rhythm of battle was necessary. She couldn’t afford to stop and think about the pain her students were feeling, even as they pushed forward. Sothis would tell her if one of them needed to be rescued by a Divine Pulse, which meant Byleth could do what she did best. Less than half the bandits remained, and it was nearly time for the plan to get underway.

\---

Byleth was every bit the terror on the battlefield Edelgard remembered from Remire. How this gentle, caring person could suddenly become an avatar of death came close to frightening her. But then, not much could truly frighten Edelgard von Hresvelg. At least that she would admit, anyway. As the Eagles made quick work of the bandits, she became vaguely away that it was time to split off. Her group formed up, Dorothea and Lysithea unharmed physically but clearly flagging mentally. She would have to be fast if she wanted to get to Kostas in time. Hubert might be able to sneak away, but rather than bank her chances on “might” or “maybe”, Edelgard had always been one to take action herself.

The four of them overwhelmed the token defense on the western bridge, and began bearing north towards the main structure still left standing. She could see Kostas from here, leering out over the battlefield. Suddenly, a cry of pain erupted from behind her. Whirling around as her silvery hair fanned behind her, Edelgard’s heart leapt into her chest. An arrow sprouted from Lysithea’s leg, and she was doubled over in pain. “Dorothea! Help her!” she screamed out, before a warning yell from Ferdinand caused her to turn her attention back toward the enemy. Five bandits were converging on her group - two archers, a swordsman, a lancer, and a mage. Edelgard swore under her breath - neither she nor Ferdinand had any strong resistance to magic, and with no archer, their only long-range options were Dorothea, who had been conspicuously avoiding landing shots with her Thunder magic as all the color left her face, and Lysithea, who was probably out of the fight even _with_ healing. 

She briefly took inventory - she and Ferdinand each had a single throwing weapon left, and their melee weapons were in poor condition after cutting through the bandits on the way here. Dorothea had a sword, but she was not going to risk separating her from her fallback weapon if the worst came to pass. Lysithea carried nothing, as even iron weapons were too heavy for her. All in all, they were in a bad spot, and she couldn’t see the professor’s group aside from the occasional explosion of dark magic she knew to be from Hubert. She sighed. 

Steeling herself, Edelgard drew power from her native crest. A miniature version of the symbol of Seiros burned itself into the air next to her hand, and she felt her aches diminish instantly. Now to pick a target. 

She and Ferdinand rushed the swordsman and lancer, Edelgard nearly carving hers in half. She reared back, and whipped her hand axe at one of the archers, but her throw went wide. Ferdinand opened his mouth as if he was about to chastise her poor aim, when he was struck twice, once by his opponent in melee, and again by an archer. Neither hit was to his core, but with him injured like that she instantly knew she had no other choice. There was no avoiding it. She would have to draw power from the Crest of Flames if she wanted to keep everyone alive. Gritting her teeth, she charged forward, the unearthly sigil of the Crest of Flames forming in the air where the mark of Seiros had been moments earlier. This time she _did_ cleave a bandit in two, his torso falling over uselessly as blood spouted from his ruined body. 

Pain threatened to overwhelm her as fire burned her veins, but Edelgard was nothing if not a fighter. She stooped down, grasping for Ferdinand’s javelin - hurling it straight and true, she gored one archer through the middle. Dorothea was up now, eyes burning with anger and concern, and she started trading spells with the mage bearing down on them. Edelgard considered her chances, then tore Ferdinand’s lance from him, ignoring his complaints. In her hands, with the strength she had at this moment, even a heavy steel lance like this would sail like a javelin if she threw it hard enough. The second archer barely had a chance to scream as the heavy projectile ripped through the air. After being hit, the force of the impact threw him backwards, and he was impaled on a dead tree some twenty paces behind him.

The bandit mage blanched at the overwhelming display of power, but Edelgard was running out of time. The pain threatened to force her to vomit with each passing second, and she was very nearly out of energy to hold the Crest. Bearing her axe, she sprinted towards the mage, who chose at that moment to hurl a Fire spell at her. It was weak, and if she were at full strength she might even have shrugged it off, but in this state it was enough to blow her backwards, her axe clattering to the ground several meters away.

“Damn it!” she snarled. “I can’t fall here!” She searched frantically for something - anything - to use as a weapon, but the area where she’d landed didn’t even have a good-sized stone to hurl. She had one last card to play, but if she did, she knew she wouldn’t be able to get to Kostas to silence him. Glancing backwards at Dorothea, who had collapsed from overtaxing her magical energy, Lysithea, who had managed to crawl forward despite the small trail of blood she left behind, and Ferdinand, who was clutching his wounds oblivious to the world, Edelgard sighed. Preparing to call on her twin crests together, she began forming a simple Fire sigil. She glared up at the mage, who was strutting over like he’d _won_. She was nearly ready to draw in power for the spell, when an arrow whizzed into the back of the mage’s head, the tip sprouting out through his cheek. He fell over, and Edelgard whipped her eyes around to search for her rescuer.

“ _Claude_?!” There was no mistaking it. The man running up to her was, somehow, Claude von Riegan, smug grin and all. Her mind nearly collapsed with the improbability of it all.

“You fight _hard_ , eh Princess? Still, you don’t need to worry anymore. This side’s clear. All we’ve gotta do is wait for Teach.” His eyes searched over her uncomfortably. Edelgard always got the impression that there was more going on in his head than he even halfway let on - had he seen the Crest of Flames?

“Nonsense,” she growled out. Pushing herself up, she grabbed her axe and began marching towards Kostas’ hideout. Strong fingers wrapped around her wrist, and she turned to see Claude, any hint of a smile gone from his face. “I’m not usually one to say this kind of thing, but we _really_ ought to wait for Teach. Your entire squad is down, and if they don’t get medical attention they’re going to be in trouble. Luckily, yours truly has some healing elixirs that, ah, fell into my lap.” She tried to pull free, but the lanky archer wouldn’t let go. “You look like you could use one yourself, you know.”

She glanced downwards, surprised to find herself nearly covered in blood from head to foot. Looking back up at her improbable rescuer, Edelgard glared at him. “It’s not mine.” He arched an eyebrow at her, clearly not willing to let her pass. She sighed. “Fine. You’re probably right that those three need some help. If you would help me get them stabilized, I would… appreciate it.” She hated the idea of owing Claude anything, but circumstances weren’t in her control anymore. The two of them got to work.

\---

“ _Can you tell what’s going on over there?_ ” Byleth’s sword sang through the air as Sothis shot upwards. Coming back down to her normal position, the diminutive goddess looked grim. “ _They are not in good shape. The annoying boy is on his way, but the only one left standing is Edelgard, and that only just._ ” Byleth held in her breath.

“ _Any dead_?” Blessedly, Sothis shook her head. Byleth sighed out in relief, before remembering where she was. Cutting down the final bandit in this group, she briefly took stock of the battlefield.

Her group had pushed almost all the way across the bridge, though the final few bandits were giving Caspar and Petra a very hard time. Hubert was unconscious, an arrow lying on the ground next to him and a wound on his shoulder rapidly closing. Linhardt was over him, muttering under his breath with a worried expression as white light shone from his hands. Bernadetta crouched next to him, deep-set fear on her face.

Byleth frowned as an arrow whizzed past her head. Moving to the edge of the bridge, she spotted a lone archer taking refuge behind a tree. She traced out the sigil for Bolganone, hurling the giant Fire spell in his general direction - as big as Bolganone was, it didn’t matter if she scored a direct hit or not. A few moments later, his agonized screams gave her all the confirmation she needed. She stepped back over towards Hubert’s unconscious frame.

“Lin?” She put her hand on the tired mage’s shoulder, and he shook his head. “I can’t for the life of me figure out why he won’t wake up. We’ve treated his wound, and he didn’t even lose that much blood… Physically he’s fine. I don’t have the equipment necessary out here to tell you what’s wrong.”

Byleth, of course, knew exactly why Hubert was unconscious. She had directed Claude to, as stealthily as he possibly could, hit Hubert in the shoulder with a poisoned arrow. The poison was a fast acting one that induced sleep in minutes. He’d wake up in about an hour’s time, give or take, with an incredible headache but no other injuries. This would ensure the dark mage wouldn’t sneak off to eliminate Kostas before she was able to get him to confess who his employer was to the group. Claude was, at this very moment, making his way over to Edelgard to support her group, and hold her in place until Byleth arrived. His sense of timing was impeccable, as was his skill at moving silently and going undetected. He’d snuck past the Knights of Seiros at the perimeter of the canyon, slipped down the walls, and gotten to the northern end of the second bridge just as Byleth’s group reached the southern end.

Affecting a sigh, Byleth clapped Linhardt on the shoulder, which made him jump. “Probably nothing more to be done, then, besides wait for him to wake up. Bernie?” The purple-haired archer locked eyes with her, afraid but simmering underneath with what Byleth could only assume was righteous, protective anger. “I want you to stay here and keep watch over him. If any bandits come up, you scream bloody murder, alright? We’ll be back in a flash if that happens.”

Bernadetta nodded, her face hardened into a grimace. She knew she’d be the perfect bodyguard. Byleth and Linhardt stepped away, down towards where Caspar and Petra were fighting, and Byleth spared one last glance back towards the archer and dark mage, only to catch Bernie sweeping hair from Hubert’s face. Smiling, she kept walking forward, only brought to her senses as Sothis screamed into her ear “ _Watch out!!”_

A bandit had broken past Caspar and Petra, and was bearing straight down on her. This was going to hurt. She couldn’t get her sword up in time to properly defend, and Byleth was always reluctant to use pulses on herself. Gritting her teeth, she prepared to take the hit when a Cutting Gale rushed past her, slicing the charging bandit in half. Whirling around, she saw Linhardt, looking at his hands in disbelief.

“I… I _killed_ him. What have I _done_?!” He sank to his knees, shaking. “The… the blood…”

Byleth’s heart broke for Linhardt. She knew how much he despised the sight of blood, and the guilt she felt that her carelessness was what caused him to kill his first man in this lifetime nearly brought her to using a Pulse then and there. Sothis flew over, attempting to place a hand on Linhardt’s twitching shoulders. Amazingly, despite her hands passing into him, his twitching stopped. Byleth reached a hand down as well, perplexed.

“Lin. Look at me.” She cupped his cheek with her hand, and his blue eyes met her own. “You did what you had to do. If you hadn’t done that, that bandit would have hurt me. Thank you for saving me. You did well.” Guiding him up to his feet, she steered him down towards Caspar and Petra, who had finally dispatched the last of the bandits at the foot of the bridge. “Listen… I know you’re bad with blood, so please don’t look at it if you can help it. We’re almost done.”

The two of them looked up at Byleth and Linhardt as they came across the bridge, and ran up to join them. Seeing the haunted look on Linhardt’s face, Caspar stroked his back, and Petra spoke to him softly. “People and beasts are as one. Calm your heart, and do not be worried about this killing.” Byleth hardly thought this would _help_ him, but the obvious care in her voice and in Caspar’s hand as they soothed their friend started to take effect.

The sun was getting low overhead when the four of them made it to Kostas’ refuge, meeting up with an irate and _worryingly_ blood-soaked Edelgard, and a smirking Claude. The other Eagles expressed surprise at his presence, but the archer just smiled wider and said “I had a free day, what with Manuela suspending me from this month’s mission and all. Figured you could use a hand.” Evidently that was good enough for them, but Byleth noticed Edelgard’s eyes narrowing. Intervening before any arguments broke out between the two house leaders, Byleth rallied everyone and began marching up the steps to where Kostas waited for them.

The bandit leader spat when he saw them. They caught the tail end of him grousing to himself: “...instead of the knights means they’ve underestimated me! Big mistake!” Then, as he laid eyes on Byleth, fear bloomed on his rough face. “Y-you’re… it can’t be! The mercenary from before?! So, what, now you’re _pals_ with the knights?”

Byleth barked out a harsh laugh. “Hardly. They’re here to make sure none of you slip out of here. But _you_ still have a choice that could let you slink away with your hide.” Edelgard drew in a sharp breath, and Byleth knew she had to talk fast before Edelgard did something drastic. Claude gave her a knowing look, and elbowed his way up next to Byleth, blocking Edelgard’s line of sight and disrupting the sigil she had been furtively drawing in the air. “Tell us who you’re working for, and I let you live. I’ll report that all the bandits were routed, and you stay here for a day or two before making your escape. Simple as that.” The Eagles looked confused - this hadn’t been part of their mission briefing. Edelgard’s eyes went wide with fear, and she searched wildly for Hubert.

Claude chuckled, and whispered to her “If you’re looking for tall, dark, and angry, he’s taking a little nap over by the bridge. He’ll wake up soon.” Edelgard seethed, but remembered her cover, and gave a curt nod. Byleth pressed Kostas again. “Do we have a deal?” She didn’t have much time, if the shadow she had seen streaking up to the ruins from the west was anything to go by. Kostas looked around for a way to escape, but finally seemed to understand his position. “Fine”, he spat out, defeated. “I was hired by some guy in a weird mask. Called himself the ‘Flame Emperor’. If you see him, tell him to go fuck himself for me. I didn’t sign on to get hunted down by the Knights of damn Seiros!”

He began to laugh, a horrible, rasping sound, when a silver arrow raced into the side of his head. Caught mid-breath, Kostas stumbled over, dead before he hit the ground. The group whirled around, only to find Shamir stepping out of the shadows towards them. She looked them up and down, then fixed her purple eyes on Byleth. Staring for a few seconds more, she began walking towards the entrance of the valley, passing through the Eagles and Claude. Before she got too far away, she finally spoke. “Good work, Professor. That was some quick thinking, getting him to confess. I’m impressed.”

Edelgard visibly deflated, exhaustion overtaking her even as Byleth knew her mind must be racing. She collapsed inward, but Byleth was there to catch her. “Easy now. You fought well. Now it’s time to rest. Don’t let yourself worry about anything else right now. We'll talk more at the monastery.” Raising her voice, she addressed all the students. “Alright everyone, mission accomplished. Well done, all of you. We’re going to rejoin the Knights of Seiros at the edge of the valley, make camp, and get some well-deserved sleep before we head back to the monastery tomorrow.” Turning her head to Claude, she added “Would you mind making sure that Ferdinand, Dorothea, and Lysithea make it back up to camp with you?” He nodded, slipping away from the group as they headed back towards the bridge.

The battle at Zanado was finally over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! Writing a battle scene was hard. Even a small battle like this was supremely not in my wheelhouse. Give me character drama all day, it's hard to come up with new ways to say "Edelgard beat a man about the head and shoulders until he died". Next time, expect some intrigue, some lore, and possibly if I can move myself along fast enough, some Seteth for the first time after his breakdown.
> 
> I will walk backwards into hell before anyone takes away my Bernie/Hubert
> 
> Edited on 01/02/21 for consistency and quality.


	9. Prelude to Dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Memories force their way into the light as Byleth and Edelgard wander Zanado under the stars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CN for some disturbing imagery in the flashback scene - nothing atypical for a Fire Emblem game, but still.

Night fell over the Red Canyon. 

The students and knights huddled close around the campfires, speaking softly. The night air was pleasant, but the canyon ruins caused a strange hush to fall over all staying there. Even Caspar seemed subdued, despite his attempt to be his boisterous self on the way out of the canyon earlier that afternoon. Being at Zanado, at least for all of them, felt like an intrusion. But not for Byleth, for she knew that another precious memory awaited her down below.

Blue eyes watched carefully, searching for an opportune moment. She’d waited as the fires grew low, and finally her chance arrived - a break in the knights’ watch rounds. Standing quickly and moving in complete silence, Byleth slipped out of the camp, down into the valley once more.

She had walked this path many times before. She knew precisely where to step to make no noise at all, until she at last reached the site of Kostas’ final moments. The first time she had slipped away into the canyon by night, she had been surprised at the absence of the bandits’ bodies. Their blood still stained the ground, but no trace of their corpses was left. Memories of questioning Sothis about it in lives past sprang to mind, but neither of them had ever learned more about it. 

Pushing this oddity from her thoughts, she sat down in the ruined structure, assuming a meditative posture. Soon, she and Sothis would be experiencing more of the goddess’ past, recalling her idyllic life at Zanado with her children. This was one of Byleth’s favorite things about every new lifetime.

Sothis joined her, back to the moon. Light streamed through her translucent form, and the two of them emptied their minds, waiting. Then--

_Flashes of smoke, blood, death. Panicked screams echoing in the canyon walls, cruel mockeries of their source even as the screams abruptly cut off. Heavy footfalls, cursing, the clash of steel on bone. Weeping. A green-haired maiden, bent and bleeding, backed further towards the abyss. Cruel men advanced, blood trickling from their mouths. A terrible noise, like talons scraping across each other. A red whip darted out, cutting a gash into her arm. Rock gave way, and she was falling, screaming. Gone._

Byleth gasped for breath. Her chest was burning, and she saw Sothis’ face contorted in agony in front of her. Screaming her name, she gathered all of her energy and pushed it toward the shuddering frame of the goddess. For a few, tense moments, nothing happened. Then at last, Sothis’ eyes shot open, and she fell forward with a cry. The two of them lay there panting on the stone floor for an unknowable amount of time. 

\---

Edelgard had watched as her teacher slipped past the patrolling knights, down into the canyon once more. Curiosity ate at her will, until at last she couldn’t take the strain of just _sitting_ there not knowing what was going on. She recalled the events of the afternoon as she waited for her chance to slip through. Byleth had told her in a low voice that they weren’t going to talk about what had happened with Kostas until they returned to the monastery. At the time, this was a balm of relief, but now her anxieties were plaguing her. “ _She_ must _know something. She wouldn’t have told me that if she didn’t. And once she tells Rhea…_ ”

She broke off from her thoughts as her opportunity presented itself. Slipping down into the canyon, she cursed as she realized she couldn’t see Byleth anywhere. But in her mind, she could almost picture where she was - and after all, there really was only one place to even go in the canyon. Moving as fast as she dared, Edelgard picked her way towards the ruined shrine where Kostas had taken refuge. Her mind was a dagger, and she moved forward with a singular purpose, not even noticing that the bodies of the slain bandits had been removed.

As she drew closer to the bridge that led over the gorge towards Kostas’ hideaway, pain flared up in her. She let out a gasp - her Crest of Flames was surging? But she hadn’t called on it, hadn’t even felt like she was in danger at all. Channeling her pain and newly-born strength into her legs, she began sprinting - whatever was going on here was _wrong_.

The closer she got to the structure, the more intense the pain from the foreign Crest boiling in her blood grew. Then, all of a sudden, it stopped. Yet even as relief washed over her, she heard her teacher’s voice, filled with a panic she had never heard before. “Sothis! Sothis, wake up! _SOTHIS_!!”

Images flooded Edelgard’s mind. 

_A brown-haired little girl stared up in wonder at the woman standing before her. She had shining green eyes, and hair to match, all done up in royal blues and gold. She was clad all in white, ornamented with gold and finery befitting a queen. A man’s voice, low and warm, rumbled out, but she didn’t hear what it said, so lost in wonder was the girl. Then, her little heart quickened - the green-haired woman bent down, bringing herself to eye level, a kindly smile on her face. “I can see that the blood of Wilhelm has borne itself out again, even without your saying so. Hello, little one.” Lilac eyes met green, and the girl stared breathlessly. “You bear the Crest of Seiros, as have many of your kin before you. Do you know what it means, little one?” She shook her head, brown hair flapping around her. The radiant woman’s smile grew even larger. “It means that you are beloved of the goddess, Sothis. With her power, I hope that you will do your part to honor your ancestor’s legacy, and that of your own Crest’s namesake. I wish dearly for great things for you, little Hresvelg.”_

A strangled cry woke her from her reverie, and Edelgard ran forward. Her blood chilled as she came across the professor, panting for breath as she lay near motionless on the stone floor. Scooping her up, she was horrified by how limp she was in her arms. “Professor! My teacher, please! Are you hurt?” No response.

“... _Byleth_.”

Edelgard started, as a voice not her own called out to the professor. Her eyelids fluttered open, and she mumbled out “...Sothis. Thank goodness.” Then, realizing she was being cradled in someone’s arms, Byleth locked eyes with Edelgard. Surprise and fear crossed her face, and she looked away, past Edelgard. Edelgard turned, and at first saw nothing but the moonlight. Then, a faint shimmer of gold dangling in the air caught her attention. It was unlike anything Edelgard had ever seen, and she was transfixed by the sight. A hand brushed against her cheek, and pulled her back to stare once more at her teacher’s face.

\---

Byleth lay panting on the stone floor, overcome by what she had seen. By _who_ she had seen, for there was no mistaking the woman in her vision. It was a much younger, less world-worn Rhea, standing her ground to the last when Nemesis and his Elites invaded the manakete settlement of Zanado. She had been Seiros then, and Byleth shuddered as she realized that the fear on her face in that vision was the only time she had ever truly seen Rhea afraid of anything. But… Why did she see that? Usually, Byleth and Sothis would recall a scene from Sothis’ past, when she too was living at Zanado. Scenes of peace, tranquility. She recalled Rhea’s description of the place, how it was a refuge for the goddess, albeit temporary. This time had been far too intense, and wrong.

Byleth couldn’t summon the strength to even move, much less get up to check on Sothis. Too weak to even speak the words aloud, she pressed her thoughts towards her eternal companion. “ _Sothis… Are you there? Are you alright?_ ” She felt the goddess’ mind recoil at her touch, fear growing in her chest. Had she triggered this somehow? Was she to blame for putting the both of them in that state? For forcing Sothis to experience memories of the massacre at Zanado, to watch her children die? Anguish threatened to overwhelm her, when at last she heard a small voice. “... _Byleth. I am… I am here. I am not alright, but I am here._ ” 

Relief washed over her, and along with it, a sensation of weightlessness. “...Sothis. Thank goodness.” She could have wept for joy right there on that stone… Hold on. She felt warmth, not cold, and softness. Where was she? Forcing her eyes to work again, she saw that she was being cradled softly by Edelgard, her eyes full of concern. They stared at one another for a brief moment, and Byleth was filled with horror - she might have heard her speaking to Sothis. She quickly looked away, trying to find Sothis for reassurance. And there she was, floating in the moonlight, resplendent. Breathing a sigh of relief, she tried to get her bearings. They were still in Zanado, still in the ruined structure where Kostas had breathed his last. Then, she saw that Edelgard was staring, transfixed, in Sothis’ direction. Almost to confirm her fear, Sothis whispered in her mind: “ _I must disappear._ ”

She knew she had to do something to distract Edelgard from what she might have seen, so she reached out her hand, caressing Edelgard’s face, and turned it to force her to look at Byleth once again.

\---

Edelgard felt her cheeks flushing crimson as Byleth stared up at her, hand still stretched out. Her eyes were filled with concern. She knew she had to say _something_ , but what?

“Ah… My teacher. I heard shouting, and was worried. Are you unhurt?” Not quite a lie, per se, but not the whole truth. She had heard Byleth calling out for “Sothis” earlier, and heard a voice answer her back. Her head throbbed. How could Sothis answer her professor, and not h-- No. It must have been a trick of the wind. The goddess did not deign to answer cries in the night, no matter how desperate. If anyone knew that, it was Edelgard. She realized Byleth’s eyes were still on her, searching her face. Attempting to mask her pain at this point was useless.

Sighing deeply, she broke away from Byleth’s gaze, staring back to where she had seen the world shimmer. The golden aura was gone now, leaving only cold moonlight filtering into the ruins in its place. Damn. One more mystery to this place, which she now desperately wanted to leave. Thales had been _right_ , damn him. This place was cursed.

“So… You too, huh?” Snapping her eyes back to Byleth, she noticed a small, sad smile on her teacher’s lips. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean,” Edelgard huffed, hoping beyond hope that she would just let it drop so they could get out of here. “Edelgard.”

She laughed, bitterly. “I suppose I truly cannot hide anything from you, my teacher.” She paused, weighing her options. Part of her wanted nothing more than to snap at Byleth, tell her she was being foolish, that she hadn’t experienced anything odd and simply wanted to leave. But part of her…

Her voice was low at first. “I suppose by now you must have heard that I was never meant to be the imperial heir. Indeed… I once had ten siblings, eight older, and two younger. Such a large family, and yet _I_ became the heir to the throne. Do you know why?” She paused, steeling herself. “Every last one of them was crippled by disease, or lost their mind, or died. I was the only one left who _could_ inherit the throne. It… I confess, today, I can barely remember my siblings, or my childhood life with them. Even now, trying to think of their faces is painful. I say all of this because I believe one of my sisters must also have possessed the Crest of Seiros, like I do. I saw…”

She paused again. How could she say what she had seen? Who would believe such _lunacy_ , seeing someone else’s memories? And yet that _must_ be what she had seen - Rhea had shown her no hint of the kindness she had seen in that memory when Edelgard had arrived at Garreg Mach. It _had_ to be one of her sisters. And yet…

“You saw someone else’s life.” Edelgard let out a shocked gasp. Byleth looked at her, sadness evident on her face. “I saw someone else’s life too, so… You aren’t crazy, if that’s what’s worrying you. You don’t have to tell me about it, if you don’t want to.” Finally pushing herself up, Byleth stood, reaching down a hand to pull Edelgard to her feet as well. “But I _am_ here for you if you do ever want to talk... about this, your past… Anything.” Heat blazed up in Edelgard’s cheeks again. “Now then. Why don’t we get out of here? Too many ghosts in this place for my liking.” Byleth gave her a warm smile, and pulled her by the hand down the stairs and off towards the Eagles’ camp, guided by the pale light of the moon above.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to include this in the next chapter originally as a lead-in, but it kinda grew into its own important thing on its own. Oh well. I hope the POV switching wasn't too disorienting, but I think it got across what I was aiming for. Please excuse the length, but as I said, this one wasn't really able to fit in the next chapter anymore. Consider it a paralogue, if you will.
> 
> Poor El needs a therapist. But don't worry, she'll start getting better before too much longer.
> 
> Edited 01/02/21 for consistency and quality.


	10. Sharing in Kind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhea gets a bit intense, Jeralt goes to therapy, and Seteth has a revelation.

As the spires of Garreg Mach loomed overhead, Byleth could not deny that she held dread for what was coming. She was expected, as the one in charge of the Black Eagles, to report after every mission for a debriefing with the archbishop. But her last such meeting with Rhea had ended very strangely, and Rhea had maintained a firm distance from her ever since. Even Seteth, who was usually such a busybody, had avoided her as best he could. Normally, that would work just fine for her - the less time spent with Rhea, the less time Rhea had to try to suss out that she knew far more than she should at this point in time. 

Shuddering at the memories of when Rhea had found out in previous lifetimes, Byleth deposited her horse at the stables, took leave of her students and the knights escorting them, and began walking to Rhea’s audience chamber. She was nearly there when she realized that she’d left her steel blade buckled to the saddle, but she’d come all this way already. “ _May as well get it over with, right?_ ” Sothis nodded grimly. Neither of them were all that sure how they would react upon seeing Rhea after the vision in Zanado, or vice versa. After knocking, Byleth was ushered inside.

If Rhea had been concerned, or angry, she was certainly not showing it. She had her typical serene expression on, a mask she’d perfected over many long years. Seteth looked grim, but he _always_ looked like that, and since neither of them widened their eyes in shock, that meant they still couldn’t see Sothis directly. Flayn was nowhere to be seen, and Byleth hoped that she would be kept out of the chamber until they were done.

Spreading her arms, Rhea welcomed Byleth back to the monastery. “It gladdens my heart to see you safely return, having disposed of the vermin infesting Zanado. I pray that their souls find salvation… Furthermore, I understand that you have uncovered the motivation behind their attack on the house leaders. I would ask that you not speak of what you have learned, and ensure that your students who were with you when this revelation was heard similarly remain quiet. There is further investigation that must be done concerning this… Flame Emperor.”

The way she said the name was curious. Byleth did not know of any way she would know the Flame Emperor’s identity yet, so Edelgard was safe for now. But Rhea learning about the Flame Emperor hiring the bandits in the first place concerned her. Shamir’s intervention had come out of nowhere, and while she knew the taciturn mercenary-turned-knight held no special reverence for Rhea, it was still too close for comfort. She would have to be doubly careful now, exposing to Edelgard that she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt who the Flame Emperor was without exposing Edelgard to the church.

Rhea cocked her head, confused by Byleth’s long silence. “Is something the matter, Professor?” Now, the trick was… how much did Rhea need to know? A little trust went a long way with Rhea, and sharing her revelations in Zanado had always pleased Rhea to no end in past lifetimes. Memories of happier days held power for one as old as she was… But this time, there was no happiness. Deciding to take a risk, Byleth stepped forward a pace, then two. “Archbishop… May I speak freely for a moment?”

Seteth and Rhea locked eyes, and Byleth held her breath in. Finally, Rhea turned to face her again, and smiled widely. “Of course, my sweet child. Please, tell me what is troubling your heart.” Thanking Rhea, Byleth scuffed at the ground with her boot. She had to appear troubled, but not _too_ troubled. No tears. A few seconds passed. That would do.

“I… While we were camped at Zanado, I admit, I snuck off alone to explore. There is such an _energy_ to that place.” Rhea nodded, and Byleth had to resist drawing back as that familiar hunger shone out from her eyes. “While I was there, in the ruin where my students and I met up with Shamir, I… I suppose the only way to describe it would be that I had a vision. I truly don’t know what to make of it, but it shook me deeply.”

Rhea and Seteth grew very still, and Sothis whispered to her “ _Tread carefully. They are on guard now_.” Rhea stepped down off the raised dais where her throne stood, walking closer to Byleth. Fear gripped her, but she had come too far now. There was no running away from this.

Staring deeply into her eyes, Rhea motioned for her to continue. “As I said, I don’t understand what I saw. There was… Fire, and smoke. People were screaming, and sounds of battle echoed all around me. Horrible men were chasing after a young woman. They backed her up all the way to the lip of the gorge, and she ended up falling in as the rock beneath her gave way.” Byleth had closed her eyes while she recounted the vision, and when she opened them again Rhea was less than a meter away, staring her in the face. Flickering her eyes to Seteth, she saw that he looked deeply uncomfortable, but was, for now at least, allowing Rhea to do as she wished.

Clearing her throat, she asked in as neutral a voice as she could muster: “Archbishop, do you have any idea what it means?” At the sound of her title, Rhea seemed to return to herself. Stepping backwards and exhaling shakily, she brought her hands together in front of her. “I… I am afraid that I do not know the truth of what you saw, dear one.” ‘Dear one’? That was new. And a bit overly familiar for this early stage. Swallowing, Byleth hoped that she hadn’t miscalculated.

“What of you? Did you, perchance… recognize this woman?” Seteth’s eyes flashed, but if he was going to intervene at all in this, he made no signs. “ _You mustn’t say anything more, Byleth! You have already said too much, and you’ve seen the way she is looking at you. I was uneasy with this retelling from the beginning, but your fool self wanted to see what would happen…”_ Sothis’ chastisement was probably deserved, but it certainly _had_ been interesting to watch Rhea lose all sense of decorum. Glancing between the two of them, Byleth nearly stumbled backward as she watched Seteth’s face once again lose all color. Speaking only in her mind, Byleth shot back, “ _Who’s the fool now? Seteth heard you, again. This is getting old._ ” As Rhea closed her eyes to breathe out another shaky sigh, Byleth caught Seteth’s eye, and jerked her head towards the door.

He blinked several times, before giving her the faintest of nods. Rhea, meanwhile pushed forward again, clasping Byleth’s hand with both of hers. Her grip was like iron. “Did you recognize the woman in your vision, Professor?” Byleth started - Rhea’s eyes felt like they were burning holes into her face. “I-I...” 

Before she could answer, Seteth finally spoke up. “Lady Rhea, please! Look at yourself! I understand that this… vision, seems to pertain to things not often spoken of in church doctrine, but you are frightening the poor girl.” Rhea recoiled like she’d been struck. Regaining her composure slowly, Rhea shrank backwards, collapsing upon her throne. “I… Forgive me, dear child. I don’t know what came over me.” She looked as if she were about to weep. Byleth felt a twinge of guilt.

“For… for what it’s worth, Your Grace, I didn’t recognize the woman. Not that it matters - no one could survive a fall down a sheer cliff. Nevertheless, I apologize. I didn’t mean to--”

“No, no… It was not your fault. I appreciate you taking the time to tell me of your vision. But now, I must ask you to leave me. I have much to consider. Seteth, if you would?”

Seteth moved to escort Byleth from the audience chamber, and made no sign of stopping as he strode towards his office. With a sigh, Byleth followed after him. This was going to be a long morning.

\---

Jeralt swore as he knocked at the infirmary door. How he’d managed to get himself roped into this was still beyond him, but Rhea kept hassling him about talking to Manuela every time she saw him. Might as well get it over with now. Maybe she’d have some good booze, and be willing to share without too high of a price. He winced, thinking of the pushy merchant who got him his last batch of sailor’s hooch.

“Just a moment~” came Manuela’s sing-song voice, and he swore again. Glancing around for any possible support, he noticed Seteth storming out of the audience chamber, Byleth following quickly behind. He shot his daughter a worried look, but she shook her head in return. “ _I’m fine_ ” was what that one meant. Seteth had better pray she was…

Just then, the infirmary door opened, the scent of pine rushing out of it Manuela stood, framed in the doorway, a smile growing on her face. “Why, _Captain_! I was beginning to give up hope of seeing you here. Finally decided Lady Rhea had a point?”

He gave a gruff laugh. “Not hardly. She overreacted, and now I can’t get her off my back. So… Here I am. Can we just get this over with? I need a clean bill of health so she’ll stop bothering me.” He stepped into the infirmary, and Manuela pointed him toward a small table and chairs, while she pushed the door closed. Sitting down with a groan, he watched as Manuela flitted about the room, gathering some papers, stealthily (to her mind - it was hard to sneak up on a man like Jeralt) adjusting the brace of daggers hanging off her leg, and grabbing a large, dark bottle.

“Ah, so you’ve decided to see it my way, have you? Good on you - pour up, I could use a drink.” 

“Not so fast, Captain. This is a reward for good behavior. I’m going to run a small session with you, and as long as you talk to me, this is yours.” She shook the bottle for added effect, a smile playing at her lips.

Jeralt sighed. He certainly didn’t _want_ to do any kind of session with her, but he had to admit it was a tempting offer. “And all I’ve gotta do is talk? No emotional crap?”

“No emotional crap. I wouldn’t have expected it after one session anyway, for what it’s worth. Now, do we have a deal, Captain?” She held out a hand, waiting for him to shake it.

He nodded, shaking her hand. “One condition, though. Cut the ‘Captain’ nonsense. It’s Jeralt.”

That was fine by her. They spent the first thirty minutes or so going over what little of Jeralt’s background he was comfortable confirming. “So,” Manuela said, shuffling papers around, “if I’ve got all this right, you’re originally a Kingdom boy, and joined the Knights of Seiros when you were young. Then, you served for… how long did you say?” She looked up at him, attempting to be disarming.

“I didn’t.”

Manuela nodded. “I see. Well, we’ll just put a little dash there then. And then you left the monastery in 1159, and came back in 1180. I must say, you look good for a man with an adult daughter.” She laughed, then said “Oh, sorry. That wasn’t very professional.”

Jeralt gave a curt nod. “If you’re trying to work out my age, save it. I don’t remember, and no one’s alive to remember either.” Manuela looked at him for a moment, perhaps trying to figure out if he was lying. Evidently she gave up, because she looked back to her papers and wrote a note.

“What’re you writing?” Jeralt asked, not bothering to hide the suspicion in his voice. Manuela looked up, startled. “O-oh, sorry. I’m just taking notes. Don’t worry, though, I keep them strictly confidential. You can even read them, if you’d like. Although there’s not much here yet.”

“Now…” she sighed. “Church records show that you have a major Crest of Seiros.” His blood stilled. Where was this going…? Manuela plowed ahead, undeterred. “Now I’m in no way some Crest nutjob like the pompous mustache next door, but even I know there’s a story there. I mean, a _major_ variant of the crest that only shows up in Adrestia’s rulers, on a commoner from the Kingdom? It’s almost like a fairytale, you know?”

Jeralt shifted forward. “I _don’t_ want to talk about that. It’s not what you think, and I’d appreciate it if you dropped it.” Manuela looked at him seriously for a moment, then wrote down another note. Clearing her throat, she extended an olive branch. “So, what’s it like being a father? Given that your daughter cleaned my house’s clocks last month, I’d imagine you’re pretty proud of her?”

Ah. Finally a softball. Jeralt leaned back a little, lost in thought. He’d known Byleth was a terror on the battlefield for years, and that was before seeing her do well with her brats, and the whole… time travel business. Here he thought he knew everything about her, and she comes in and rocks his world with “goddess” this and “past lives” that… Everything he knew was already blown all to hell anyway what with Bereth coming along. And saints alive, that one was smart as a whip! Half the time he couldn’t make heads or tails of what he was saying, but the kid was every bit as smart as Byleth was tough. Quite a pair of kids he’d lucked into. His thoughts turned to Sitri, and he sighed. What would she think about all this business? She’d be proud of the both of them, for sure, but so worried. Sitri always was a worrier.

Realizing Manuela had been waiting patiently for him to say something, Jeralt cleared his throat, mumbling an apology. “Hell yes I’m proud. Those damn kids are more than I’d ever hoped for. I--” 

Oh, fuck. Now he’d done it. 

Manuela didn’t _look_ shocked, but he felt the tension in the room shift instantly after his blunder. What to do… If Rhea found out, they’d be in big trouble. Grumbling, he stood up to his full height, chair falling over backwards behind him. “Now, Manuela. You’re going to forget I just said that. Do I make myself clear?”

And then she _smiled_. Jeralt reached for a dagger, but Manuela laid a quick hand on his before he could pull it out. She was so much smaller than he was, and yet she wasn’t scared at all. “Oh come on, Jeralt. Lighten up. I’m a medical professional, and my colleagues’ health is my responsibility. I figured it out months ago.”

Well. That wasn’t what he’d expected to hear. Lowering his hand from his dagger, Jeralt eyed her warily. “Explain.” She nodded, picking at her nails. “Well, truthfully, I didn’t _know it_ know it until just now. But I’d been operating on that assumption since you got here, and I got your records. An ‘orphan’, who happened to be the same age as the span of years you’d been gone from the monastery, who lost his knight father in the fire that 'mysteriously' broke out when you took your leave, who just _happened_ to have a major Crest of Seiros and could probably drink me under the table since before he started on as my boss? If that’s all a coincidence then I never sang a day in my life. Now, granted, there’s not a lot of physical resemblance, but then I gather Byleth must take after her mother more, too. Not to mention how those two treat each other. I’m surprised more people don’t know, if I’m being honest.”

He frowned. He couldn’t feel any deception from her, but still… To hear it all laid out like that, like it was nothing... Manuela was a lot sharper than she let on. “Fine. You’re right. He’s my son. The two of them are twins. But more important than that, does Rhea know?”

Manuela stared at him, confused. “Does Rhea know what? That your kids are siblings? Or that you, and they, know about it?” Manuela laughed softly, a musical little laugh that sounded almost out of place coming from her. “Jeralt, dear, Lady Rhea knows just about everything that goes on at this monastery. I’m sure she thought it was funny, hiring Byleth as a professor to work under her own brother. Or, maybe not. Knowing her it could all be some grand plan for the future. My advice? Relax a little. She wouldn’t have hired Byleth, knowing Bereth like she does, if she didn’t have a good reason… Hmm. Twins, you say?”

A soft, tinkling chime broke into the conversation. Manuela gasped. “Oh, dear! Fifty minutes already? That’s too bad.” Jeralt stood there, arms crossed. Was she waiting for him to ask to stay longer? That wasn’t happening - he wasn’t going to sit here and chew the fat about all his secrets, and if she thought otherwise--

“I’m afraid we’re going to have to cut this short. I have someone else coming in to speak with me soon.” She paused, her tone softening. “Jeralt. I know you’re probably feeling kind of raw about all this coming out like it did. But I’d like you to know that, if you ever want to talk more, even if it’s just to brag about your kids, my door’s open. Er, but, knock first, if you don’t mind.” 

She stood, gripping his arm and leading him to the door - where in the world was she hiding that strength? “Oh, before I forget: take the bottle. You’ve more than earned it.” She pressed the dark bottle into his hand, before scooting him out of her office and shutting the door. Jeralt stood there for a few moments, utterly confused. Then, a smile crept onto his face. Might as well give the hooch a try… Maybe, if it turned out to be any good, he might do this again sometime.

\---

Trying not to think about _what_ her father could be getting up to behind closed doors with Manuela, Byleth and Sothis followed Seteth inside his office. To her surprise, the door shut behind her - Flayn was standing there, torn between displaying her glee at seeing Sothis again and attempting to look serious and studious. Seteth settled in behind his desk, and judging from how he was staring at his daughter’s face, he must realize that she could see the owner of the voice he’d heard in the room with them.

He motioned for her and Flayn to sit, and a brief silence took hold, no one wanting to begin this conversation. Then, finally, in a voice barely masking the tremors underneath it, Seteth spoke. “Miss Eisner. Twice now, in your presence, I have heard… Heard a voice. And twice now, Flayn has very obviously seen something unseen by myself. It does not take a brilliant man to consider these events together… That Flayn is capable of seeing the owner of this… voice. Thus far, however, she has adamantly refused to tell me anything.” 

Flayn shifted around in her seat, visibly uncomfortable. She hadn’t said anything to Seteth? Byleth was impressed.

“That would be my fault. I offered Flayn fishing lessons if she would stay quiet, and she does seem to enjoy them a lot. She’s quite good, too. A natural. I’d ask that you not punish her for it. I’d hate to lose my fishing partner.” Flayn looked up at Byleth in appreciation. “She’s not quite as good as Father, but then, no one is. And Flayn is far better company, even if she does scare the fish off sometimes.”

Seteth pinched the bridge of his nose. “That’s not… Flayn’s interference is neither here nor there. _Please_ understand, Miss Eisner. I have been at a loss as for what to do about that voice. I had almost convinced myself that I was simply sleep deprived, that I had imagined it the first time. Then, I heard that same voice, berating you for, if I recall, saying ‘too much’, in the audience chamber. And I know you heard it, too.”

A desperate edge entered Seteth’s voice. “Miss Eisner… Byleth. Please. _Please_ tell me about the voice, and the person it comes from. I’m… I am begging you.” He looked as though he were on the verge of tears. Uncomfortable, Byleth looked away, and at Sothis. “ _Thoughts_?”

The diminutive goddess looked at Seteth with pity in her eyes. Sothis spoke in her mind, for now, clearly wanting to speak openly. “ _Oh… Can we please? I want nothing more than to tell him all that I know._ ” She spun back to look at Byleth, silently pleading with her eyes. “ _I don’t know. I don’t know what the consequences would be. If she found out now… You saw what she was like at just the barest mention of that vision_.”

Seteth gave a shuddering gasp, nearly insensate with a mix of emotions Byleth couldn’t even hope to begin untangling. Since starting her journeys across time, she’d gotten very good at expressing emotions, and identifying them in others, but with powerful mixtures, she was still hopeless. She sighed. “Fine. But, three things have to happen first. One--”

She stood, and began casting her Muffling spell. Satisfied after a few moments, she returned to her seat. “There. That will ensure this conversation is between the four of us. Two… I need you to swear that you will never tell Rhea what I am going to reveal to you. I think you’ll understand why once I do, but that is my condition. If you break this condition, it will have ramifications beyond this lifetime - I will never again tell you what I’m about to say, no matter how much any of you beg. Again, that’s something you’ll come to understand once I tell you what’s going on. And three… Over the coming weeks and months, I am going to require certain events to happen in ways that I have a degree of foreknowledge about. I will need you, and Flayn, to act as I direct, and again not to speak a word of it to Rhea. Do we have a deal?”

Seteth stared at her, hard. A minute passed, then another. She was beginning to think he was going to reject her offer, when at last, in the smallest voice she’d ever heard him speak in, Seteth said “I… accept. I swear that I will never speak of this to Rhea, regardless of what truths you reveal to me here. And… and I will follow your direction.”

Byleth sighed, deeply. Time to take this timeline even further off the rails.

“To tell you what’s going on properly, we have to go back into the distant past. To the War of Heroes, to be precise. Seiros had just defeated the King of Liberation, Nemesis, in battle at the Tailtean Plains, and recovered his weapon, the Sword of the Creator. Seiros, unbeknownst to her allies in the war, removed the Crest Stone from the weapon, and began certain… experiments. In an effort to create a living vessel for the Progenitor God, she created artificial beings with the Crest Stone at their cores. These people all bore the Crest of Flames, but none of them were ever strong enough physically to serve as a vessel. Seiros toiled for many long years, changing names and building secrets. Eventually, this led to the creation and life of her twelfth vessel. My mother, Sitri.” 

The two manaketes stared at Byleth, attention wholly on her. She cleared her throat, and continued. 

“Mother was another imperfect vessel, but she became very close to Seiros, now going by Rhea, who considered her a daughter. It wasn’t long before, in her duties as a nun here at the monastery, she met my father, Jeralt. They fell in love, and not long after that, Mother was pregnant with twins. Her firstborn was fine. A healthy baby boy. Her second, _myself_ , was a stillbirth. She pleaded with Rhea to save my life, the only way she knew how - by transplanting her heart, the Crest Stone, into my lifeless body. Rhea did so, and Mother passed from this world.”

“I was born of unnatural flesh, joined with a human with Rhea’s own blood in his veins. My brother, like my father, bears a major Crest of Seiros, thanks to Rhea’s direct intervention in my father’s life years prior. This combination, along with the Crest Stone, allowed a consciousness to be born alongside mine. Though it would take years for her to awaken, my birth heralded the rebirth of the Progenitor God, Sothis.”

The two gasped. Flayn’s jaw hung open, and she stared up at Sothis in pure wonder. Seteth said nothing, staring at his hands. 

“Agh. My throat’s getting sore. You want to take over?” This wasn’t exactly true, but she and Sothis both knew that talking about time travel and multiple lifetimes would be easier to take from a goddess. “ _I shall, little one._ ”

“ _Byleth and I wandered through life together, experiencing joys and sorrows, pain, loss, love, and betrayal. We wandered beyond the bounds of death, returning time and again. She is…_ ” Sothis looked at her in annoyance, gesturing for her to look away.

“ _She is one of the kindest souls I have ever met. She has lived longer than you by far, my dear Cichol, though most of it has been by repeating the same six years of life over and over._ ” At the mention of his true name, Seteth stiffened, but he kept silent, pondering what he was being told. “ _All that she has done, and is doing, she does to save the people she has come to love. All of her students, everyone here at the monastery… They are precious to her. And, I suppose, to both of us. We are searching across time for a way to save everyone from themselves._ ”

“This lifetime has been unique in several ways. First… It is the first life I’ve lived in which I have had a twin. Before, I was always alone. Second, it is the first lifetime in which I’ve ever had a vision of Seiros at the massacre in Zanado. And third, it is the first lifetime in which we’ve come clean, about everything to one of Sothis’ children, before...” She fell silent, unwilling to talk about the war. Edelgard could be in severe danger if she said more, after all.

“So…” Seteth finally spoke, his voice no louder than a whisper. “So you mean to tell me that Rh-- that Seiros… _Experimented_ on her own daughters… all in some horrid attempt to have them subsumed by our mother’s will and consciousness? And that she hid this from me - from us - for _centuries_? And now you stand here, _with Mother_. Is that… Does that cover everything?”

“Well, there was another idiotic plan using blood magic and an enchanted chalice, but, I don’t like thinking about that lifetime. Otherwise, that about covers it, yes.”

Seteth growled, making a guttural sound that Byleth could have sworn had some sort of timbre to it. Immediately after, speaking over one another, Flayn and Sothis both shouted:

“ _Cichol!_ ”

“Father!”

He winced. Byleth laughed, and the tension in the room began to dissipate. “Some sort of Nabatean swear word, I gather? I’ve tried to get Sothis to teach me some but she always says they’re improper…” (" _They are! I will not sully my own mouth with vulgarity like that!_ ”) They all shared a laugh, and Sothis even looked amused despite being the butt of the joke.

“Now then.” Seteth had begun to regain his normal composure, his stuffy attitude returning stronger and stronger by the minute. “Byleth… I cannot thank you enough for this.. this _gift_. You do not know how much it means to me to know that Mother is still in this world, still watching out for us. I will not go back on my word - not a syllable of what has passed here shall reach Rhea’s ears from either of us. But… I cannot in good conscience condemn her to never know the truth. You will tell her one day, won’t you?”

Byleth nodded. “There’s a lot of ground I have yet to cover in this lifetime before I feel like I could be comfortable telling her. She’s caused lots of previous lifetimes to, ah… end abruptly, if you catch my meaning. But I promise you that I will tell her, as long as you hold up your end of the bargain.” Just then, Flayn let out a shocked gasp, turning to stare at Sothis.

“Does… does this mean that I may call you ‘Grandmother’, Grandmother?” 

Byleth decided that the look of joy on Sothis’ face was well worth the fraying nerves this conversation caused.

\---

“ _I_ _fail to see what the issue here is. It’s just a sword. It’s not even_ our _sword._ ” Byleth was walking toward the stables again, anxious to make sure to grab her steel blade from her saddle. “‘The issue here’ is that I paid that damn merchant through the nose for it. It came from the lands out past Dagda, across the sea - imported goods are incredibly expensive, and rare. I don’t even know how he got it...” The two were elated that their conversation with Seteth had gone so well, and were bickering about everything to celebrate. “ _Ahhhh, I see now. You are upset that you were swindled, and do not wish to lose face._ ” Sothis smirked at her. “Oh, shut up, you little gremlin.”

They carried on like this until they drew near to the stables, where warm laughter could be heard drifting outwards. Not wanting to catch one of her students in a delicate position, she cleared her throat loudly, and projected her voice as much as she could, nearly shouting into the afternoon air: “GODDESS, BUT I HOPE MY SWORD IS STILL HERE. I’LL HAVE TO SEARCH THE STABLES IN A MINUTE TO CHECK.” A small “eep!” confirmed her suspicions. She waited for a minute, then walked ahead toward the stables where she’d last seen her blade. Unexpectedly, she found Dimitri there, looking rather bashful.

“I… Dimitri?” Well _that_ was certainly new.

“Ah, um… Good day, professor. I was just on stable duty here. I, um, heard you say something about a lost blade? Perhaps I can help you look, ah, over there?”

“ _He’s very bad at this._ ” Sothis craned her head around the stable door Dimitri was standing next to, reappearing with an impish look on her face. “ _Oh my._ ”

“Um… Oh, Captain Jeralt, good to see you sir!” It was a pathetic attempt, but she humored him, turning around until the tell-tale sound of a student running away faded around the corner towards the marketplace. Turning towards him once more, Byleth intended on merely embarrassing him a little further before searching for her sword, only to catch a head of pale blue hair poking around the corner. She and Marianne met eyes, only for the poor girl to let out another frightened “eep!”, and finish running away.

Dimitri and Byleth stood, staring awkwardly at each other, for a few moments. Then, Byleth broke the silence. “So, you like _horses_ , do you Dimitri?” He stood there, nonplussed. “I… Suppose? My father was a paladin of some renown, and I have some small skill in… Oh!”

“ _Finally. Goodness, can someone so utterly without guile truly become a king?_ ”

“Just… make sure you treat your horses well, alright? I’m sure there are a lot of people in the monastery who are happy for you, but they would also be very upset if anything happened to the horses. Understand?”

“Completely, professor. Now… May I help you find your blade?” He gave her a shaky smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man it sure seems like the whole monastery is coming up Byleth, huh? I wonder how much longer that'll keep going for. Probably forever.
> 
> I love Marianne. She's such a sweetie, and her Azure Moon supports with Dimitri are just... *chef's kiss*. Please always recruit Marianne.
> 
> Edited 01/02/21 for consistency and quality.


	11. In Peaceful Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our principal cast have some words with one another, Byleth meets the Ashen Wolves, and Edelgard is vulnerable with someone for the first time in years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CN for the disturbing imagery in Edelgard's C and C+ supports.

Bereth had been working himself to the bone. Not that he was upset about it - nothing pleased him more than throwing himself into his work with complete abandon. Still, though, he felt more tired than he had in a long time. As if he’d been stretched too thin for too long. It was a beautiful, peaceful Sunday afternoon, and for the first time in a while, he decided it was time to relax a little. He poured himself a drink while he formulated a plan of attack, then stopped, slapping himself in the forehead. Planning relaxation? “Goddess above, I _am_ hopeless aren’t I?”

His voice carried out of his office door, which he’d left ajar. It was the Garland Moon now, and as the days grew longer and warmer, he found the library to be unseasonably warm already. It distracted him from his work a lot, leaving the door open, but it was better than sweating in silence. 

A quiet laugh broke him from his thoughts, and he looked up to find Claude von Riegan standing in his doorway, an odd look in his eyes. Raising an eyebrow at his unexpected visitor, Claude raised his hands in mock surrender. “No sense disagreeing, Tea… Er, Dean. Anyone with eyes could tell you’re incredibly high strung.” Spotting the nearly empty glass in Bereth’s hand, he smirked. “Though I suppose that answers my question of how you manage not to implode.”

Sensing something was at play he didn’t quite understand, he motioned for Claude to shut the door, before casting Muffling over it. “So, young Duke-to-be Riegan… I admit, I don’t know what to call someone with a title like yours. Princes and the like, you can just say ‘Your Highness’, but… Oh, dear, here I go again getting ahead of myself.” He flashed Claude an apologetic smile, though it was not returned. “I _am_ curious what this might be about, though.” He tapped his desk nervously.

“One might think you already know, from how you just acted…” Claude said coolly. “But, I guess I can’t blame you for being a little cagey. Probably still haven’t forgiven me for nearly barbecuing your sister.” The younger man was annoyingly perceptive.

Clearing his throat, Bereth poured a second glass, and offered it to Claude. “I hope you didn’t come here just to re-litigate that? It’s in the past, and whatever my feelings, we are allies now.” Claude accepted the glass, and made a show of checking for any poisons, a small smile on his face now. “Right. Allies. Well, as the heir to the Alliance’s _illustrious_ House Riegan, how could I not check in on my good, good, ally?”

A silence fell between them. Claude looked at him so strangely - he had from the moment Bereth had first met him. 

“You know,” Claude said, mercifully breaking the silence at last, “I wasn’t _quite_ truthful that day in your dad’s office.” He sipped his drink, watching carefully. “I couldn’t help it. This whole thing has been like a nightmare.” 

“Imagine with me, if you would, the horror of waking up in a room you never thought you’d be in again, six years too young, before any of your dreams had come to fruition with the help of your wonderful, supportive partner. That’s fine, of course… All you’ve got to do is meet him again, and you can re-achieve your dreams. You’ve done it once, after all… Imagine how much worse it might feel when that partner has no memory of you, and has a completely different role in life, and a different name. Now throw in a mysterious twin sister, who consciously chose to avoid you, who had your partner’s name... You can imagine that might be a tiny bit stressful, right?”

Bereth said nothing, digesting what he was being told.

Claude’s voice was a whisper, his smile long forgotten. “You look just like him. If I don’t catch myself, remind myself you’re not him, I…” 

Standing abruptly, Claude shook his head. “I’m sorry. It’s not fair to you to say all this. I don’t even know why I opened up like this. I’m gonna take a walk. You should... “ He sighed. “Look. As a favor to me, get the hell out of this stuffy little office. Go fishing, or something. And, ah… Don’t tell your sister any of this.” Turning on his heel, he let himself out of Bereth’s office, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

Perhaps some fishing was just what the doctor ordered.

\---

Claude was in a considerably worse mood now than he had been in a long time. He walked through the monastery grounds, looking for a place he could go to calm down, and not have to put the persona of lazy, good-for-nothing noble scion back on for a while. How had he put up with that stupid facade for so long back then? Being forced back into it now was… Well, annoying was the kindest way to put it he could think of. Just then, he spotted something that almost made him convinced he _was_ in a dream - Edelgard von Hresvelg walking toward the cathedral.

Well, there was no way he could let an opportunity like _this_ pass him by, was there?

He shadowed her into the cathedral, then off into a small chapel that was completely deserted. Statues of the Four Saints gazed down at her, unblinking, uncaring gold. Not that the real saints were all that welcoming either; aside from the real-life Cethleann, the rest were a bit prickly for Claude’s taste. Quickly glancing around, he was surprised to find Hubert wasn’t skulking around somewhere. Perhaps churches warded off nasty little dark mages like him after all? The grown-up Marquis Vestra had been a consistent thorn in Claude’s side in his old life, and even though he bore a grudging respect for the way Hubert had strategized even for the event of his own death, that still didn’t stop unkind thoughts springing to mind about him.

The sight of Edelgard in what looked to be fervent prayer before the statue of Saint Cethleann nearly bowled him over. How ironic, given her aversion to the children of the goddess, that she would be praying to one of them now. He’d always wondered how much she knew about them. Likely not a lot, given the track record of Those Who Slither in the Dark (a _great_ naming choice - what had possessed Hubert to pick such an unwieldy title for their shadowy little puppetmasters?).

Claude focused himself. If he was going to try to get some answers, it was now or never. Opportunities like this don’t just come along every day. He stepped around the corner into the chapel proper, and cleared his throat softly. Edelgard’s eyes shot open, and he saw her reaching down for her dagger before she caught herself. “I-- Claude?!” A faint shade of red appeared on her cheeks. She’d been so focused that she hadn’t noticed him following her? Either he was better than he thought, or something was off here.

“In the flesh, Princess.” He flashed her a smile, before adding “Which I’m rather attached to, so if you don’t mind…” His eyes flashed to the dagger - it was older than he’d have expected, with a blue and gold hilt. Much more utilitarian than any weapons he’d seen come out of Adrestia. Intriguing. 

Edelgard’s expression tightened for a moment, and then softened, as she slowly forced herself to relax from a ready position. “My apologies. You caught me off guard. I suppose I must seem rather foolish to you, kneeling here.” She looked steadfastly away from his face. “Foolish? Hardly. Lots of people pray. Religion is often a big part of how people find their place in the world. Although… Well, I hardly expected to see _you_ of all people praying.” 

As soon as the words left his mouth, Edelgard glared at him, showing anger, annoyance, and… was that a hint of fear? Before she could accuse him of anything, he offered up “I’m just saying that you don’t exactly strike me as the type. I’m somewhat irreligious myself, truth be told. Thought you seemed like a... kindred spirit.” The words had nearly stuck in his throat, but Claude wasn’t about to let his feelings about a war that hadn’t even happened yet in this world get in the way of information gathering.

Edelgard let out a hollow laugh, turning back towards the statue of Cethleann. “I suppose normally you would be right. Let’s just say that I have a… fraught relationship with faith. And yet, that doesn’t stop me from seeking it out, on some days.” Okay. So her war had been… personal? That struck him as odd, and didn’t exactly square with what he knew of her. Time to feed her a little rope, and see what she did with it.

“I’d imagine the Church of Seiros has made a lot of people like you in its day.” Edelgard visibly stiffened, but said nothing. “You know what? I’m gonna let you in on a little secret of mine, since you offered one of your own. You see, where I’m from, people live fulfilling lives, free to live and worship as they choose... It hardly takes a genius to see that the Church has been responsible for a lot of hurt in this world. It frustrates me, having seen what life _can_ be like, to see all these people just lie down and accept that this is as good as life can get.”

Edelgard turned towards him again, eyes wary. He smiled, trying his best to be disarming. “Oops. Guess that’s heresy, huh? Good thing our silent friends here aren’t gonna say anything, though.” He could practically see the gears turning underneath that silver hair. Surprisingly, she motioned for him to sit with her on one of the few small pews placed before the statue of Cethleann.

She watched him for a while longer, searching his eyes for something, before giving a long sigh. “Claude… While I appreciate your candor, what is it you want?” He thought for a moment, then replied, “Well… I really was just satisfying my curiosity. Unless you mean something deeper than that.” Silence. Her eyes were such a strange shade of purple. It wasn’t _unpleasant_ to look at, per se, but it reminded him of something… The unearthly shade that made up her eye color tickled his memories from the war. Where had he seen that kind of look?

Then, it hit him. Lysithea! Her eyes had that same kind of unnatural shading. Come to think of it, the eyes weren’t their only similarity. Both women had unnatural, ghostly pale hair, and an affinity for dark magic - he had to stop himself from wincing as he recalled her and Lysithea facing off in the palace at Enbarr, both unleashing an unholy maelstrom of dark power he’d learned later was a spell called Hades Omega. Was Edelgard…? But no, that was impossible. Lysithea said Those Who Slither had made her as she was, and Edelgard was _working_ for them. Why would they hurt their own champion? Well… Worth checking, at least.

“Say, Princess. In the interest of satisfying my curiosity, was your hair always that color? I could see you looking nice as a b--” She launched herself at him with such fury that he’d barely had time to protect himself. He panted from effort, as the point of her dagger hovered ominously above his heart. Muscles aching, he’d have to pull out some power from his crest if he didn’t calm her down soon. “Explain yourself, _now_.” Any trace of warmth was gone from her voice.

He sighed. That answered his question, and raised about a hundred more. “Well, let’s just say I had a hunch, based off someone I knew - know - fairly well. Thanks for confirming it, by the way!” Edelgard stopped trying to push the dagger into him, but neither one of them let go. “If you’re worried about me telling anybody, don’t be. Nobody’d believe my theory anyway.” Now, it was time to make a quick escape. He wanted to push her further, but she might _actually_ try to kill him next, and that wasn’t exactly on the agenda for today.

Channeling the power of the Crest of Riegan without warning, he spun around Edelgard, still holding onto her wrists - they’d ended up almost looking like lovers meeting for a clandestine embrace before the statue of Saint Cethleann. Preparing to run, he sprang back, surprised that Edelgard didn’t follow up with a slash towards his ribs. He took several steps away, still facing Edelgard, whose face had gone ashen.

“Look… As a peace offering, maybe you ought to talk to Byleth. She won’t give away secrets that aren’t hers to tell, but… Well, just trust me on this one. Her views on the church are surprisingly nuanced.” Not waiting for a response, Claude set off at a quick pace, out of the cathedral. He had a _lot_ to think about now.

\---

Byleth had intended to spend her Sunday afternoon resting and relaxing, perhaps doing a spot of fishing. Instead, she found herself crouching low behind a pillar, watching a familiar scene play out as the sun sank lower towards the horizon. Ahead of her, two unsavory types exchanged furtive glances before one of them handed the other something she couldn’t identify. She was surprised for two reasons - one, this incident had always occurred when Caspar was around for some strange reason, and two, there was usually only one of the thugs. And yet, it was playing out otherwise normally. One of the men shifted around, his sleeve raising just enough to display the lower half of what she knew to be a scorpion tattooed on his arm. He nodded at his companion, then stalked off towards a common area where the monastery’s children liked to play. Of course, she knew what he was actually doing - that little plaza held one of the monastery’s concealed entrances to Abyss. 

She briefly considered bringing it up to a soldier on guard, but then thought better of it. Not only did it give her an excuse to head down to Abyss, but if she was quick enough, she’d have a Scorpion gang member to hand over to Yuri, which would save her a lot of time getting in his good graces. Sure enough, she heard the telltale rumble of a hidden door sliding open, and was just about to dash in after him when she was grabbed by the arm. Instincts kicking in, she whipped out her dagger and was about to remove the offender’s hand when she noticed that it was Edelgard. Her eyes looked red and puffy. 

“ _Byleth. You’re scaring her._ ” Sothis voice brought Byleth back to her senses, and she noticed that her dagger had only just stopped in time, hovering a hair’s breadth from Edelgard’s arm. “I… Sorry. You caught me off guard.” She sheathed her dagger, shooting Edelgard an apologetic look. “It… It is alright, my teacher. Although I admit, I am curious what has you skulking around the monastery this evening.”

She thought about explaining fully then and there, but it would take too much time - much longer, and she’d lose her advantage. “If you really want to know, come with me. But be on your guard. We’re not going somewhere safe right now.” Edelgard gave her a confused look, but nodded, incredibly. “ _My but this girl is trusting. One might think she had no self-preservation instinct at all_.”

“ _Sothis, that’s rather rude…_ ” Byleth felt her companion smile wryly. She counted out the time in her head, if only to distract her from Edelgard’s condition. Why did she look like she’d been upset?

“Ah, Lady Edelgard. There you are.” Hubert’s voice announced his presence before Byleth was actually aware of his footfalls - he had always been a quiet one, when he wanted to be. “I have been searching for you for some time now. Please, return with me to--”

Byleth put a hand over Hubert’s mouth, not caring that it likely made him seethe with anger towards her. “Good. More people means more safety. Be ready to move on my signal.”

\---

The three of them walked quickly down the narrow corridor, leading deep into the rocky foundation of Garreg Mach. Byleth was unsure _how_ Edelgard could combat Hubert with only her eyes, but she was grateful for the skill nonetheless. 

So far, there hadn’t been any side paths branching off from this one to worry about, so it was simply a matter of catching up to the Scorpion before he got any further away. “Sothis?”, Byleth whispered. Nodding, the goddess shot off ahead of them, returning a few moments later. “ _We are nearly upon him, but I think he has heard your footsteps. There is a small depression on your left up ahead - he has hidden himself there, and is armed._ ” She nodded, grimly, then turned to relay this information to Edelgard and Hubert. 

Edelgard’s eyes were narrowed, searching for something. “ _Oh come_ on. _Not her, too!_ ” Sothis spoke only in Byleth’s mind this time, evidently worried that Edelgard might also somehow have grown aware of her voice. Pushing her concern down for a moment, Byleth spoke softly. “There’s a little spot up ahead that is perfect for an ambush. Our target is most likely there. I want him alive. Until we arrive, I want you two to move as silently as you can. Understood?”

Edelgard and Hubert exchanged a look, then nodded. It would have to do. They crept forward, stopping just before the spot where the ambush would be sprung. To Byleth’s surprise, Hubert pushed forward, grinning malevolently. “Allow me.” He formed a strange sigil, and to Byleth’s shock, a perfect replica of her appeared in front of Hubert. This otherworldly Byleth was almost a perfect recreation, but remained just the tiniest bit transparent. This faux-Byleth strode forward confidently, uncaring, and was promptly set upon by the Scorpion. He raised a wicked-looking dagger and stabbed it towards her, aiming for where her kidney would be, only for the blade to pass harmlessly through.

It was all the confusion they needed, as the real Byleth rushed forward with Edelgard, quickly disarming and knocking him unconscious. Byleth tore a strip off from the bottom of her shirt, and secured the bandit’s hands. Looking back up at Hubert, she smiled. “Nice work. That’s a neat trick. I gather Bereth showed you some new spells?”

Hubert gave a slight nod. “Dean Bereth proved to be quite knowledgeable. His work is… sublime.” Edelgard raised an eyebrow. “Oh? That’s quite high praise indeed, especially from you.” The faintest of smiles played on Hubert’s face for a moment. “It is deserved. I have never met anyone with a greater grasp on the intricacies of magical formulae. These spells pale in comparison to some of the other possibilities he mentioned wanting to explore.”

Byleth nearly frowned, before catching herself. Had Bereth talked about manipulating time to Hubert? That was probably not a wise idea. But… She had to admit that his new illusion magic was bound to come in handy. “I’ll expect a full tactical breakdown of your new abilities before our next mission, Hubert.” He nodded.

Edelgard cleared her throat, causing the two of them to look back at her. “Now then, my teacher. I think it’s time you explained what exactly is going on here. Who is this man, and why did we chase him into the bowels of the earth?” Ah. Right. She had forgotten about a good explanation for this situation.

She thought for a moment, shifting her weight. Then, inspiration struck. “Mercenaries often hear about underworld affairs. It’s part of the job. Before I came here, I heard two rumors. The first is that an underground war was brewing between two rival gangs. One is marked by the image of a scorpion. The other, a mockingbird. The second is that the leader of the mockingbird group had made a home for himself in the city below Garreg Mach - a place called Abyss. That’s where I’m taking our friend here. See…” She rolled up his sleeve, showing off the scorpion tattoo on his arm.

“Courting a gang leader in a city beneath the monastery… You are _full_ of surprises, Professor. In fact, the more I learn about you, the less I like.” Hubert was frowning, his arms crossed. Edelgard, however, defended her. “Hubert. I’m certain the professor has some reason she wishes to meet with this man. I admit that I am curious, but… If this is personal business, I’m more than willing to take my leave.” Her eyes watched Byleth carefully.

“I don’t exactly mind, but… I don’t know how long I’ll be down here for. You two should head back up to the monastery. I’ll see you for class in the morning at the very least.” A very flimsy excuse, one that Hubert would immediately object to, if she knew him at all. A scoffing noise confirmed that she in fact did. “Lady Edelgard, surely you do not mean to--” A gloved hand silenced him. Edelgard shot him a stern look, before turning to Byleth. Her eyes searched her face again, before softening. “Alright. I said earlier that I was willing to go. And I am. But…”

A strange shadow passed over her face. “I would like to request that you come directly to my quarters when you are finished. I have something I would like to speak with you about.” Byleth’s mind began to whirl. What was going _on_ with Edelgard today? Still, she nodded.

Turning on her heel, hair fanning out behind her, Edelgard began marching back towards the surface. “Come, Hubert”, she called after her, and with a parting glare, Hubert stalked back towards the light with her.

Shifting her captive up onto her shoulder, Byleth walked silently down, towards Abyss.

\---

She hadn’t gone far once the side passage opened up onto one of the main thoroughfares of Abyss before a couple of Yuri’s toughs stopped her. Demanding to know her business in Abyss, she simply flashed the scorpion tattoo on her captive’s arm, then asked “Is your boss in?”

The two goons looked at each other, then one of them nodded. She followed him through the twisting streets, until she finally came to a familiar sight: the disused classroom of the Ashen Wolves. Putting her captive down and turning to sit on a desk, she waited patiently as one of them went to find Yuri, and the other kept watch on her. It wasn’t long before Yuri showed up, flanked by Balthus, Hapi, and a very annoyed Constance.

“I was in the middle of a very _delicate_ experiment, Yuri! How could you ruin such a promising endeavor in unraveling the secrets of the magical arts? One might even think you wished for me to fail!”

Yuri had the good grace to not scoff, at least. He looked as smug as ever, his self-assured stance belying the danger he could be in a fight. “Come on Constance, have a little tact. Play nice for now, we’ve got a guest.” Turning to face Byleth, Yuri scanned her up and down, a faint smirk on his lips.

He moved forward, past the guard, and laughed haughtily. “Well now, it’s not often we get visitors from topside, much less professors at the Officer’s Academy. And you even brought a present! How thoughtful.” The other three filed in after him, each appraising Byleth.

“She doesn’t look like much. I’d heard she was beautiful, but I guess that was an exaggeration.” Hapi was, understandably, quite wary of her. The poor girl… Twisted by the Agarthan wearing Cornelia Arnim’s skin, she had been turned into a living weapon, then kept caged for years. Byleth had a soft spot for Hapi, even if right now Hapi wouldn’t have let her anywhere _near_ her. 

Constance, ever the air of grace and nobility about her, gave a laugh. “I’ve heard that she is quite the mage. Nowhere near my own level of brilliance, but then, there are so few who can truly claim such!”

Balthus was uncharacteristically quiet. He was staring hard at her, of course, and Byleth cursed herself for not covering up slightly more before coming down here, but he otherwise kept his thoughts to himself.

“What’s your business in Abyss?” Huh. Yuri getting straight to the point? How strange. She made a mental note that bringing in a Scorpion got good results, in case she had to do this again.

Clearing her throat, Byleth went into the pitch like she and Sothis had rehearsed it. “I was a mercenary before I was a professor, and mercenaries hear more than a lot of people give us credit for. I know that you’re a resourceful person, for example. I’d like to have a bit of a… working relationship. I figured, after seeing this guy sneaking around up on the surface, that he’d do as a good introduction.”

Yuri mulled it over for a moment, before cracking a small smile. “I suppose I can hear you out. You’ve got good manners, at least.”

“Well, there’s going to be other things down the line, but for now, all I’m really after is a bottle of this old, disgusting swill that I heard came from here. It’s a whisky, but it’s utterly foul.” She grimaced, remembering the occasions where she’d drank from Jeralt’s flask. 

Yuri stared at her blankly. “You mean to tell me you captured a rival gang member and brought him to my doorstep… for booze?” The other Wolves had frozen, waiting for Yuri’s signal to pounce on her.

Byleth nodded, waiting. Yuri paced back and forth a few times, looking hard at her eyes. Then:

“Well, damn. I’d love to take you up on that offer, but I’m afraid you won’t find that garbage here anymore. In fact, there’s exactly one person in Fodlan who can still get it for you.” Pausing for a moment, he smiled again. “Want me to make introductions?”

\---

The five of them stomped their way to Abyss’ uptown, stopping outside an inn called the Wilted Rose. Yuri led Byleth inside, drawing greetings and reverence from the patrons. They walked up to the bar, where a thoroughly disheveled-looking redhead sat, her head down. “Anna, got a customer for you.”

The woman, Anna, perked her head up, and turned around to glance at Yuri and Byleth. “A customer, huh? I’m afraid I’m away from the store at the moment, but… Wait a second. You’re that new professor at the Officer’s Academy. I know you! Your dad’s Jeralt, right?” A strange gleam shone from her red eyes. What was Byleth getting herself into?

“Yeah, that’s right. And if you know him, you must know about his awful taste in liquor. That’s what I’m after.” Byleth was wary of this woman - something about her was _strange_. Not in a way that screamed “danger!” to her practiced instincts, but still...

Anna laughed uproariously, and Byleth looked back to glance at Yuri, only to find that he had disappeared. Anna, for her part, kept on laughing. She eventually calmed down, wiping her eyes. “Oh wow, I _really_ lucked out this time! So, look. I can get you the booze, easy. Give me a couple days, then meet me at my stall in the monastery’s marketplace. I’m just past the blacksmith. But what _I’m_ interested in is meeting up with your dad again. You’ll help a girl out, won’t you? It’s only fair - this stuff is hard to find!” Byleth nodded slowly, feeling a little like she had just sold her father for some bad whisky. “Great! I’ll send a messenger to find you once it’s ready. Cash on delivery, though!”

\---

It had been a thoroughly strange evening, and as Byleth climbed up out of the Abyss entrance next to the sauna, she wanted nothing more than to go to bed, and put the strange merchant out of her mind. But even as she turned to go towards her quarters, Sothis stopped her. “ _Did you forget? You told Edelgard you would meet her at her quarters once you were finished with your business. Are you not the least bit curious about what she wants?_ ”

Byleth hadn’t _forgotten_ , but the sky overhead showed that it was the dead of night. She wouldn’t have much time to get any sleep at all. Still… She did say she would be there… 

Her mind made up, Byleth slipped past the other dorm rooms on the first floor, slipping up the stairs like a shadow. The stealth wasn’t strictly necessary - as a professor, she could be out at any hour and the night guards would have nothing to say about it. But something in her gut told her that it was better not to be seen tonight. She walked quickly along the upper dorms, until she at least reached Edelgard’s room. She raised her hand to knock, when a gasp reached her ears. She froze. One of Edelgard’s nightmares?

She decided she would simply try the door, and found it unlocked. She slipped inside, finding Edelgard asleep, still in her day clothes. She had obviously been tossing and turning, and the sheen of tears on her face confirmed it - she was having a nightmare. Moving gently, she placed a hand on Edelgard’s arm, gently shaking her. “Edelgard. It’s me, Byleth. Wake up, Edelgard.”

No response. She considered slipping out, but that option was immediately removed from consideration when Edelgard cried out in pain. She resumed, more forcefully, trying to wake her sleeping student. “Edelgard! It's only a dream! It can't hurt you. Wake up!” Still no response. Byleth sighed - she hated watching Edelgard suffer through these. Then, remembering the name Edelgard once asked her to call her, she leaned forward again, drawing level with her ear. In a soft, warm voice, Byleth tried one more time. 

“Wake up, El. It’s alright. You’re safe. I’m here with you.” Finally, she had gotten through. Edelgard woke with a start, her eyes snapping wildly around the room, until she at last landed on Byleth. “I… Professor. I’m… I’m sorry you had to see me like that.” She looked away, shame filling her eyes.

“It’s okay. I’m sorry I was so late. By the time I got here, you were already asleep... You had a nightmare.” She finished the phrase as flatly as she could, not wanting to show how concerned she had been. The two sat in silence, as the moonlight filtered in through the window.

Edelgard’s voice was small when she spoke again. “I’ve had them since I was a child. They’re… dreams of my past.” She balled her hands into fists. “Your siblings?” Byleth offered. She knew she shouldn’t know anything about the nightmares yet, but… Edelgard was upset. Luckily, Edelgard seemed to accept it. “I suppose you recall our talk at Zanado? Yes… I’ve dreamt of them nearly every night for the last… actually, I can’t remember a time before these dreams anymore.”

Byleth laid a hand on Edelgard’s. Her gloves were missing, and Byleth could feel the faint outline of scars at her wrist. She knew that this was where the manacles had cut into her when she was held prisoner, and yet… Every time she saw them, she alternated between wanting to weep, and burning with anger. Finding her voice, she asked softly “Do you want to talk about them?”

Edelgard looked her in the eye, thinking for a moment. “Only if you swear not to tell a soul.” She nodded, and Edelgard sighed.

“I… I dream of my older brother, paralyzed, helpless… My older sister, crying out for help that never came. The youngest, babbling words beyond meaning. I see all of them, dying slowly. Waiting in the darkest depths for a glimmer of light. Things just kept getting worse. The darkness kept getting darker, and in the end, I was the only one who survived. My nightmares are a reminder, to never forget. To never allow such terrible things to happen again.”

Her voice shook, pain threatening more tears. “Even now, I’m the only one who can carry the weight of the Adrestian Empire. The future of the Empire… of _everything_ … depends on me.”

Byleth stroked her hand, not speaking for a while. Then: “Who did this, Edelgard?”

Edelgard laughed bitterly. “The prime minister, and his gaggle of nobles. The parents of many of those in the Black Eagles house with me today. My father _tried_ to save me, to save us… But he was powerless by then, by the hand of the Six Great Noble Families of the Empire. My siblings all died, in order…” She paused, unsure if she should say more.

“In order to make you something else.” Byleth had said the words without thinking, and cursed herself even as they left her lips. Edelgard’s eyes were on her again, searching. But then, just when Byleth was sure she had pushed too far, Edelgard nodded.

“It is as you say. My siblings and I… We were imprisoned underground, beneath the palace. The object… It was to endow our bodies with the power of a major crest. I have always possessed the Crest of Seiros. I was not alone in this either, though several of my siblings were crestless. But there had not been a major Crest of Seiros in our family in generations. In order to create a peerless emperor, they violated our bodies… Cutting open our very flesh. Now, here I am, the fruit of their endeavor. Edelgard von Hresvelg… Others died for my existence, too. Innocents, who never even knew what they were dying for.”

She drew her knees up close to her chest. Byleth was probably not going to be able to push any further tonight. But then, Edelgard again surprised her. “Professor… Thank you for listening to me. Not many know the terrible truth of the Hresvelg Empire. But… Well, I asked you here tonight to speak of something else. If… If you don’t wish to stay, I understand. It is late, and I’ve wasted enough of your time. But…”

“You are not a waste of time, Edelgard. Mine, or anyone else’s.” Byleth’s eyes flashed in the darkness. Tears began to form at Edelgard’s eyes again, but she blinked them away. Once again putting her hand on Edelgard’s, Byleth smiled at her. “I’d be happy to stay. Let’s talk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow okay. So first, I'm sorry that I am physically incapable of shutting the fuck up. I just get to writing, and all these ideas spill out... I actually cut a decent bit from this chapter, believe it or not! It's still huge - and to top it off, the master document where I've got the whole fic written up is sitting at 104 pages at the end of this chapter. I'm just laughing at how I thought six pages was a lot for a single chapter at the beginning....
> 
> Poor Claude. I didn't make it explicit before, but as much as I like Claude and F!Byleth together, there's really something to be said about how mad I am that *Balthus* of all people gets to be the Prince-Consort of Almyra but M!Byleth doesn't. Intsys please. Now the poor guy comes back to a world where not only is his former lover now suddenly someone else, but a man who looks *identical* to the Byleth he knows exists, and has no idea who he is. My heart aches for the guy.
> 
> Next - poor Edelgard! I mixed her C and C+ supports for her scene with Byleth. I pulled a little bit from their supports for the conversation they had in Zanado a few chapters back, but man. Poor kid has a lot of unresolved trauma. I promise she'll be getting the help she needs by the end of this mess. I held the Crest of Flames bit back for later, but you all know it's coming. 
> 
> And... I guess we should talk about Anna. This is basically an extension of a joke I told folks in a discord I frequent about how Anna clearly wanted to jump Jeralt's bones the entire time she was at the monastery. I don't *think* I'm going to let her get him, but these characters have a way of doing what they want, you know...
> 
> Next time - Ashe meets the Eagles, and we try our level best not to commit patricide. Imaginary internet points for anyone who can guess what route that might take...
> 
> Edited on 01/02/21 for consistency and quality.


	12. Pleas to the Goddess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth talks religion, a plan to save Lord Lonato is hatched, and Dimitri gets something to chew on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some fitting music for the beginning Edelgard section and ending Dimitri section is The Voice That Calls You, from Shadows of Valentia. Please play Shadows of Valentia.

Edelgard nearly came undone at the seams under Byleth’s watchful eye. For a brief, fleeting moment, she longed to be able to throw everything she was working so hard for away, to turn away from it all, all so she could… Her breath caught in her lungs. What was she _doing_? She had almost decided then and there that it didn’t _matter_ who this wonderful woman really was, only that she was there. But the iron jaws of doubt and logic would not loose their hold on her so easily. Because in truth, it mattered a great deal who Byleth truly was, and even moreso right now what she believed. On any other day, Edelgard might have considered herself foolish for even considering taking advice from Claude, of all people. But remembering his words in the cathedral not even half a day ago… 

She had to know. Even if it hurt to find out, she _had_ to know. She couldn’t continue on in ignorance, growing closer and closer to someone who might turn against her. Hubert, as ever, was right. She had been foolish in even letting herself get into this situation. To think she was even capable of such flights of fancy anymore. Surely that part of her had been burned away long ago? Nothing for it now. She had to take a risk. She had taken big risks before.

She became dimly aware that she had been shaking, and felt a strange sensation - Byleth was rubbing her back in a circular motion. It was nearly enough to send her right back to the start of her thoughts again, but she knew she couldn’t allow it. She was iron. She was flame.

“My teacher… I don’t have the energy to choose my words cautiously right now. But there is something that I want… that I _need_ to know. Tell me, what do you think of the church? What do you _truly_ think, not the facade you and everyone else put up when dealing with the archbishop?” She stopped herself before she added “ _Please_ ” to the end. Now, the agonizing wait.

Byleth hummed, considering her question. Edelgard slumped forward, head pressing against her teacher’s forearm, while Byleth's hand traced designs and words she couldn’t make out onto Edelgard’s shoulder blade. She was deathly still, listening more intently than perhaps she ever had before. She nearly started as she heard it again - that small voice! From Zanado, from earlier that very night in the tunnels.

“ _All I am saying is that honesty is best with this one. I know you are trying to stifle feelings from another lifetime, and the little thing is truly trying my patience with these displays… But she is in a fragile state. We do not want to push her too far, nor too hard. I… Oh dear._ ” While only one of Edelgard’s eyes could see past Byleth’s arm, she was using that eye to focus with all her might on… What in the world _was_ it?! She must be hallucinating - floating behind her teacher, wearing strange garb and a look of shock to match Edelgard’s own, with green hair flowing in cascades down her small torso, was a young girl. The two stared at one another in silence for a moment. Then Byleth stiffened, her hand jerking and disrupting the gentle rhythm she had been moving it at.

Edelgard rubbed her exposed eye with her fist, but when she opened it again, the girl was gone. She took a shuddering breath as she considered the implications. Not only was she hearing voices, now she was seeing ghostly children who looked for all the world like… like _Rhea_. “I… My teacher--” Edelgard began her sentence, but was cut off by Byleth bringing her other arm up around Edelgard’s shoulder. The sudden completion of the gesture, a simple embrace, caused her mind to go blank.

Byleth let go, at once merciful for ending it and cruel for ending it too soon. “I think it’s probably past time for you to sleep, Edelgard.” Her voice was soft, and full of concern. Before she could protest, Byleth spoke again. “I’ll answer your question, first, though…”

“My thoughts on the church… are complicated. You know I grew up outside of the church’s influence. I knew nothing about it before I came to the monastery. I’ve learned quite a lot about it since then.” She hummed, as if to confirm what she was saying to herself. “I think… I think that the people who make up the church are mostly good. They’re earnest, hard-working, and dedicated. Sometimes they take things too far, but everyone does that from time to time. Most of them don’t know any better - they think that the church is all that there is in the world, and they live contented lives without ever questioning anything. I don’t know whether that’s good or bad, in and of itself, or whether there’s any justice about it. It simply is.”

She shifted her weight, gently pushing Edelgard back until she could see Byleth’s face. “At the same time, it’s hardly a secret that the church as an institution handles things poorly. They send children into battle. They send sons against fathers, brothers against brothers… They wield a powerful web of control, and support one of the great injustices of this land.” Edelgard felt her heart stop for a moment. Was Byleth saying what she thought she was saying?

“I’ve seen a lot in my life. It’s hard to… disgust me, I suppose, anymore. But when I see the kind of stock nobles put in crests, how they treat people born without them, or how they treat people born _with_ them… It makes me sick. They treat people as disposable all by virtue of whether they were lucky enough to be born with the right blood or not. And the church, far from trying to aid these people cast out by the nobility’s lust for power, instead _supports_ this system. I don’t know why. I’ve tried to understand it, but there’s no logical explanation outside of…" She paused, searching for the right word.

"Well, I suppose I’ve already said a lot of heresy tonight. I might as well go all the way, hmm?” Her eyes sparkled in the moonlight.

“The church’s support only makes sense if they benefit from the system in some way. I don’t mean soldiers, or land, or even really power. I don’t think Rhea is the sort of person to nakedly lust after that sort of thing. There’s something deeper, something fundamental that the church… that Rhea, must get out of it.”

Silence fell between them. Edelgard didn’t dare to blink, didn’t dare to _breathe_. This must be a dream. She must be having a dream, that her teacher would speak Edelgard’s innermost thoughts to her face. But… if it was a dream, Edelgard never wanted anything more than to stay in it forever.

Then, snapping her from her racing thoughts, Byleth laughed. It was soft, melodic… Beautiful. “You know, it might surprise you after all that I’ve said, but I… believe in the goddess, in my own way. I think she would be very upset with the way her name has been used by the church to hurt people. People worship some kind of... twisted version of the goddess, who condones such _barbarism_ , but to my mind, she would never allow something like this to happen if she had a-- er, if she were able to stop it today. Why, she might march into Rhea’s solar right now and slap her! What a sight that would be…”

Byleth looked Edelgard in the eye, smiling softly. Edelgard tried to use all her mental energy to capture how that moment looked, how she felt. Then, without even realizing it, she felt herself begin to cry. Byleth once again wrapped her in an embrace, and she let her tears fall without caring what she looked like doing it. Without caring that she was supposed to be strong, and that tears were for the old Edelgard, who had died in those dungeons in Enbarr so long ago… She closed her eyes, her vision long since obscured by tears anyway.

She felt as Byleth slowly lowered her onto her bed, then broke away. She almost begged her to stay, but… Despite what she had learned tonight, there was no way she could ask something like that of her. Despite the gift she’d been given, surely there was no way… She felt a warm hand rest on her forehead, and even warmer magic seeped into her. “Now then… I’ve kept you up far later than you should be. Rest tonight, E-- Edelgard. I trust I’ll see you tomorrow, ready to take on the world?” She smiled, in spite of herself. “Yes, my teacher....” And then Edelgard knew no more. She would sleep soundly for the rest of the night for the first time in nearly ten years.

\---

Edelgard was late to their monthly briefing with Rhea. This didn’t bother Byleth exactly, but she couldn’t help but worry about her. At the time, she thought she was doing what was best for her, but a few short hours of fitful sleep later had her second-guessing herself. Not to mention that Sothis seemed convinced Edelgard could not only hear her, but see her now. This lifetime was just one problem after another…

Not wanting to wait any longer and receive a scolding from Seteth about “wasting the Archbishop’s valuable time”, Byleth knocked on the audience chamber doors alone. “Enter”, came the familiar ethereal voice, and she strode in, finding Rhea, Seteth, and Bereth waiting for her, grim looks on their faces. “ _Ah, right. It’s the Garland Moon. That means Lonato’s rebellion has started_.” Sothis appeared, concern on her face. “ _Do you truly believe that we can save that man? If Rhea sends Catherine, you will either have to fight her, which has never gone well, or run ahead of the little ones, which is a recipe for disaster in that fog._ ” 

“Professor,” Rhea beckoned for her to come closer - the three of them were looking over a map of Fodlan on a small table that had been brought into the audience chamber. Byleth walked up, casually glancing at the map as well. “Where is your house leader? It is… unlike her, to be absent from one of our meetings.” Ah. Of course Rhea would be the one to ask that. “I’m afraid she’s indisposed. She had a long night, and I am letting her rest.” Rhea smiled warmly at her. “Such a kind soul you possess, dear child. Please relay the information you receive from us to her as soon as she has recovered.”

“Now, to business. There has been a… development.” Seteth cleared his throat, then spoke again. “We have received reports that Lord Lonato has rallied troops against the Church of Seiros.” His eyes carried an accusation - _did you know about this_?

Byleth nodded. “Why would this Lord Lonato declare open rebellion? If memory serves, he’s a minor noble of the Kingdom. Why would he declare a hopeless war?”

“That is neither here nor there,” Rhea answered quickly. “What matters is that he _has_ done so. Pointing a sword at the Holy Church of Seiros is akin to pointing a sword at the goddess herself. It cannot be allowed to go unanswered.” Sothis scoffed, causing Seteth to flinch.

“And if innocent militiamen, whose only crime is following their liege lord, die because of it?” Byleth had spoken without thinking, and was almost ready to reach for the Divine Pulse after seeing the look of shock in Rhea’s eyes.

“They are hardly innocent. All know the penalty for standing against the Church.” There was no softness to her voice now, and her green eyes were flashing dangerously. “But… I suppose I can understand the cause of your reluctance. You were, for better or worse, raised outside of the succor the Church provides. I do not expect you to understand this matter… But I do expect you to do your duty, Professor.”

With that, the meeting abruptly ended. Byleth followed Seteth to his office, a curious Bereth tagging along. Once they had shut the door and properly Muffled it, Seteth sighed deeply. “ _Please_ tell me that part of your plan does not involve defying Lady Rhea on this matter. She has been deeply wounded by Lord Lonato’s betrayal.” Byleth scoffed now, earning her a withering look from the green-haired man. Bereth placed a hand on hers, tutting. “Sister, you must understand… It-- oh.” He looked guilty, and she suddenly realized that she had forgotten to tell him about Seteth being on their side. Quickly reporting about _that_ incident (while keeping his true identity secret), she watched as relief flooded over her brother. 

“You were saying, Bereth?” She wanted to get this over with quickly so that she could go find Ashe. She would need him if her plan was to have any chance of working. He cleared his throat, looking pensive. “Yes… It’s just that… Lord Lonato was always such a pious man. I recall clearly from my childhood when he would come to stay at the monastery. Noble or not, he served the church with a fervor few ever display. If _anyone_ in Fodlan were a true believer, I would have said it to be him without a moment’s hesitation. He is a kind man, and gentle of heart. I… I don’t understand why he’s doing this.”

The two of them looked at her, expectantly. “Oh, you want to know the reason behind it now? Can’t it wait for his interrogation?” She _had_ to get a handle on herself - she was shooting off at the mouth far too often today. Sothis giggled at her, which made Seteth stiffen.

“Professor… What you are suggesting is not possible. Not with Rhea’s choice of attendant for your students. While you will be in the vanguard, there is still a possibility of combat, and as such... Rhea is sending her most trusted knight with you. Catherine, wielder of the Heroes’ Relic Thunderbrand. She… she will brook no dissent. If you cross her, she will cut you down.”

Byleth laughed, darkly. “Oh, I’m well aware. I’ve fallen to that sword more times than I care to admit.” This caused Seteth to groan. “I do not wish to know why you ended up crossing blades with her. All I ask is that you do not do so this time.”

Looking at Bereth, she smiled. “You don’t need to worry about that, so long as my _favorite_ brother is willing to have another little chat with one of my students.” 

\---

Stepping out of Seteth’s office and descending the stairs quickly, Byleth was nearly bowled over by Edelgard, who was running furiously towards the second floor. She skidded to a halt just in front of Byleth, panting and out of breath. “My teacher… I… I’m so sorry! I overslept and I… Goddess why is it so _hot_ already?!” Byleth let out a small laugh at her house leader’s expense. “Sorry, Edelgard. I know you’re in a rush, but the meeting’s all done. I’ll tell you about it as we walk.”

Edelgard hung her head in shame, but Byleth put a firm hand on her shoulder. “Hey now, none of that. I told them you were indisposed. It’s fine.” She smiled down at the still-panting girl. “Besides… I’m glad you were able to sleep, for once.” Edelgard’s cheeks flushed crimson almost instantly, but she returned Byleth’s smile at least. Small progress was still progress.

The two of them walked leisurely towards the cathedral, and as Byleth told Edelgard of her meeting with Rhea, she noticed Edelgard growing quiet. They stopped along the bridge, looking out over the valley below. “I have a plan, but for it to work, I’m going to need you to control Hubert for me. Can I ask this of you?” Edelgard looked at her with confusion. “I’m afraid I need more to go on than that, my teacher.” Nodding, Byleth motioned for Edelgard to lean closer. Whispering, she explained that she intended to save Lord Lonato’s life, and have him turn himself in. There was a twinkle in her eye as she finished, which she knew would make it hard for Edelgard to deny her this.

“I… To think that you would risk so much for the life of someone you don’t know. You are truly a mystery sometimes, my teacher.” Byleth laughed again, feeling lighter than before at Edelgard’s words. “Just imagine what I’d do for someone I _do_ know.” Edelgard blanched.

“In any event,” Byleth said quickly, in order to stop Edelgard from asking exactly what she meant by that, “if we’re going to do this I need two things. One, I need Hubert’s newfound skill in illusion magic and his unwavering loyalty to you. And two…” She turned towards the cathedral. “I need a secret weapon.”

\--- 

The two women found Ashe sitting on a pew in the cathedral. He looked so distraught - dark circles under his eyes said that he hadn’t been sleeping, and he was unnaturally pale. Byleth went up to him confidently, and sat down beside him. The young, grey-haired archer looked up at her, not really understanding what he was seeing.

“Ashe.” Her voice was so _kind_ , it almost melted Edelgard’s heart. Of _course_ she would go along with this plan. Seeing how much it meant to Byleth would have been enough even to motivate her to action now, even if, like the situation with Kostas, she had been directly involved. But Edelgard was not involved this time, and that made her decision clear. Someone was using a kind man to strike at the church, and while she could support _that_ goal, Byleth didn’t want him to die. She was dimly aware Byleth was talking in a low, sweet voice to Ashe, who was nodding. She felt herself blush - what was wrong with her? All it took was that singular confession about the church, and the goddess, and now Edelgard couldn’t hold her thoughts back any longer. She felt weak, but _happy_ to be weak for once. It was the strangest thing.

Pulling herself back to reality, she saw as Byleth finished speaking, and saw a spark of hope light up in Ashe’s eyes. “I… I don’t know what help I could really be. But if you think there’s a chance that I can help to save Lonato… I would do anything for that! I’m with you, Professor!” 

This woman should have a church dedicated to _her_ , Edelgard decided. 

\---

The news of rebellion in the Kingdom set Dimitri’s mind ablaze. His fellow Blue Lions were somber as he gave them the news, and Professor Hanneman did not ask where Ashe was - they all knew that he would be taking his grief to the goddess, begging her for aid. Annette seemed especially despondent - little wonder, the two gentle souls had been thick as thieves ever since the mock battle. He’d watched in quiet wonder as Annette put what little faith magic she knew to use checking Ashe for injuries that day. She could be quite… forceful, when she wanted something. A trait she shared with her father, for certain. Another pang of guilt at the thought of Gustave and Annette’s fractured relationship threatened to overtake his mind, but he forced himself to focus.

His ghosts hadn’t bothered him much recently. Sheepishly, he thought of Marianne - she always claimed to be bad luck, but ever since they had started meeting in the stables to talk and care for the horses, Dimitri could honestly say he’d never felt better. Still, on this particular morning, the ghost of his father was particularly loud. 

“ _My idiotic layabout of a son would rather prance around, sharing empty words with a gutless, cowardly whore from Leicester than securing his own kingdom from further rebellion. How I weep for the people of Faerghus, to have only_ you _to look forward to!_ ”

It wasn’t often that he got angry at his ghosts, but for Father to call Marianne what he did… “You… You’re wrong, Father. Marianne is better than that. Better than I am… You will not speak of her again!” His chest heaved - he’d defied his father, and he was sure to hear about it again later. But he had to push it out of his mind - Ashe. Ashe needed support. Ashe needed him to be better than he was. He resolved himself, and made to set out for the cathedral.

Or, at least, he had intended to, but a rather serious-looking Claude von Riegan stopped him. Motioning him off towards a bench overlooking the valley, a very confused Dimitri found himself sitting side-by-side with a man he had, until just now, been successfully avoiding. He still had not forgiven the Leicester noble for setting that inferno off during the mock battle. Perhaps it was petty of him to hold a grudge like that, but… Fire held a deep distress for Dimitri ever since Duscur. He shuddered.

Claude spoke first, unsurprisingly. “Hey, Your Princeliness. How are you holding up? I heard about Lonato.” Claude, for once, seemed like he was willing to be genuine. A peace offering, perhaps? 

Dimitri shook his head. “I am… How I am is irrelevant. My friend, Ashe, is hurting. And… Well, no offense, Claude, but you are keeping me from seeing him. Is this important?”

Claude tutted at him, which annoyed Dimitri. Here they were the same age, and Claude acted superior towards him? “It is. I... “ Claude sighed. “Look. I’m going to be straight with you, since I know you appreciate that kind of thing. I heard you talking just now.”

Dimitri froze, unsure of what to say. Claude pressed on, seemingly oblivious. “Now, lots of people talk to themselves. I do it, Teach, er, Professor Eisner does it… But most people don’t, ah… Argue with themselves. Or call themselves ‘Father’.” 

Himself? Could Claude not hear King Lambert speak? It was plain as day - he often had wondered why no one reacted to the late king shouting at him. Propriety, he had always guessed.

“And…” Claude spoke again, a twinkle in his eye. “Most people don’t defend someone special to themselves. Which makes me think, maybe you weren’t talking to _yourself_.”

He shifted uncomfortably, a look that was mirrored on his companion’s face. Dimitri didn’t know what to say, how to answer him. “Look, Dimitri… You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to. But, right now, your job has already been taken care of - Teach is on the case. She’s gonna help Ashe rescue his dad. So, you can rest easy.” Dimitri looked in bewilderment at the tanned archer, who smiled coyly. “I overheard them, you see.”

“Ah. I had suspected you might say something like that. But… Thank you for telling me. I still wish to speak with Ashe, but… It sounds as though he is in good hands.” Dimitri’s chest loosened just a little. 

“Too true,” came Claude’s reply. “That Teach… I swear, she must be sent by the goddess or something.” He flashed Dimitri a look he had no way of interpreting, so he merely grunted in assent.

“Anyway… Well, I don’t expect you to really open up to me about this. It sounds personal, and I’m bad at personal. But, I do know someone who’s pretty good at that kind of thing.” Claude paused, trying to see any change on Dimtri’s face. “She might be able to help keep your, ah… arguments, to a minimum. Help you find ways around ‘em.” _That_ got Dimitri’s attention. He fixed Claude with an appraising look, but he couldn’t tell if he was lying or not.

“Why?”

It was a simple question, but all the same it caught Claude off guard. His easy smile faltered for a moment, and he suddenly looked much older, much more tired.

“‘Why’?” Claude ran his fingers through his hair. “Well… I’ve got a few reasons. But, the one I feel like sharing is that, in all my time here, I’ve never seen Marianne smile more than after she comes back from those ‘secret’ stable rendezvous with you. She deserves some happiness in her life. We all do.” He was back to seeming older, and tired. “So, it falls to _me_ to make sure _you_ don’t pop a gasket, for her sake. That reason enough for ya?”

Dimitri sighed. Claude was so much more perceptive than he appeared.

“I… I care for her.” He spoke in a small voice, not really _believing_ he was saying the words out loud, much less to someone he considered a stranger. Claude clapped him on the shoulder. “I know you do, buddy. That’s why I want to help.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edelgard only ever needed a little kindness to steer her away from the darkness. That's one of the most powerful things about Three Houses - if Byleth isn't there for her, she falls, and becomes either an obstacle on the way to peace, or the final obstacle in a long, desperate war. If Byleth is there, she loses none of her conviction, but she never loses the light that she clung to when Byleth was around. It's always so ironic to remember that Sothis is with Byleth the whole time - the goddess, who both Rhea and Edelgard are desperate to see, is the force of light and hope for both of them. They seem so diametrically opposed in the game, but things didn't have to be this way. But, I should shut up before I tip my hand for later. Also, Edelgard falling hopelessly in love with Byleth this early on might feel a little weird, but please remember that the entire song The Edge of Dawn is Edelgard singing about how much she wants/wanted (depending on when you hear it sung) to love and be with Byleth. She is an absolutely useless lesbian, and to top it off, a teenager.
> 
> Dimitri go to therapy challenge 1180 is almost a success! He, like Edelgard, has a lot of deep-seated trauma, and that doesn't heal overnight. It's funny, for Rhea and Edelgard being such great foils for one another, Dimitri and Edelgard are too. Intsys was even more hamfisted with them - Edelgard and Dimitri are born on opposite solstices, grow to know and maybe love one another, in a childish way, and then have to deal with the fallout years down the line. It's gonna take some time, for both of them, but I promise they'll see some relief soon.
> 
> Claude... Well, he's gonna take a little more time. If you thought he was slow to open up *before* all this...
> 
> Edited 01/02/21 for consistency and quality.


	13. Preparing the Way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brief interlude before the Black Eagles set out on the next big task. Hubert and Bereth bond over magical theory, Byleth buys Edelgard a birthday gift, and Hubert learns of his role in coming events.

“ _Truthfully, I do not think that the precise measurement is necessary. I worry that, less than the angles and placement of lines and symbols, the real issue is and always will be_ \--”

“Yes, yes, the Crest of Flames. You’ve said so before. I remain unconvinced.”

Sothis and Bereth had gone back and forth over this issue several times already. His formulae for understanding how her time magic worked were incredibly detailed - everything he could possibly account for was accounted for, except for their differing crests. His own, a major Crest of Seiros, did not fit in the space her sigil design afforded for the manifestation of a crest, and trying to adjust threw things into chaos. The size of the summoned crest in a sigil was an equal measure to the amount of power being drawn from it. The sheer size of Sothis’ sigil in relation to her body was _impossible_ , at least for a normal person. But then… Sothis was far from normal. He had to remember that. He pinched the bridge of his nose, and sighed. 

“Alright. I concede that you may have more of a point than I was initially willing to give you. But the fact remains that--”

A knock on his door interrupted his thoughts. Who would be visiting him now? It was still very early in the morning, something Sothis had been quick to point out to him when she arrived in his office. He and Byleth had set up a routine during weekdays. Shortly before Byleth would wake, Sothis would transport herself to Bereth. She would check in, and see if Bereth had need of her (or simply wanted company). If he did not, Sothis would return to Byleth and accompany her throughout the day. The three of them had grown closer over the past couple months, and he fervently hoped that this would continue on into the futur--

Right, the knocking. It rang out again, accompanied by a voice this time. “Dean Bereth. I requested to meet with you again several days ago?” Ah! Hubert, the sallow-looking dark mage from Byleth’s house. How had he forgotten such a bright young man was coming by? Springing to his feet, he smiled at Sothis. “I think that will be all for today. It was nice to see you again!” Sothis merely chuckled at him, then disappeared with what almost looked like a wink.

“Coming, my friend, coming!” He slipped around his desk, and opened his office door. Hubert didn’t look particularly thrilled to be up this early, but Bereth always thought quicker in the mornings. Especially when… 

“I assume you brought it?” His eyes lit up when the pallid noble lifted a small thermos, the faintest hint of a smile playing on his gaunt features. “Excellent! I must say, Hubert, you prepare truly superb coffee.” He let Hubert into his office, unbothered as the noble shut the door and cast a Muffling spell. He assumed that Byleth had taught Hubert that - a small pang of jealousy entered his chest, but he hadn’t the faintest idea _why_. She was his teacher, and teaching him things was the very nature of the job. Rather than waste time thinking about that, he searched around until he found a couple of very worn mugs. Turning back to his guest, he was surprised to find Hubert, rather brazenly, had grabbed the diagram for Sothis’ sigil and began examining it.

Neither man said anything for a few moments. Bereth set the mugs down as quietly as he could, wishing he had the power to see into the thoughts of others. Byleth had warned him against letting Hubert know he was researching time manipulation, but honestly, what was the harm? The young Lord Vestra possessed a mind incredibly suited to this sort of task. He had already learned nearly all the illusion magic Bereth had come up with - in fact, only one spell still stood between him and complete mastery. It was what he assumed today’s meeting was for. Why shouldn’t he let another brilliant mind toil alongside him on this blasted project?

Clearing his throat, Bereth took his seat first. Hubert, engrossed in the sigil, did not immediately follow suit. “I can see you’re quite interested in that… Care to voice your thoughts? I’m afraid I’ve run into something of a dead end, you see…”

Hubert’s voice was silk when he finally spoke. So low and soft, like he was worried even with the spell that they would be overheard. ”I have many thoughts. I shall limit it to two, for now, as we had prior business to attend to. Please pour while I speak, if you would.” Nodding, Bereth grabbed the thermos and poured the two of them steaming cups of deep, black coffee.

“I suppose this is an unavoidable first thought: the crest in that sigil is an impossibility. The Crest of Flames has not existed for over a thousand years, if one believes the history books. I must ask… Whatever is it that you are working on?” A strange light gleamed in Hubert’s eyes.

“Ah, well... I suppose there is no harm in you knowing. This sigil comes from a very ancient Church source, so much so that I would not be able to show it to you without receiving extreme commitments from you. You understand, I assume?” Hubert nodded. “From what I have gleaned, one aspect of the goddess’ power when she walked Fodlan was the ability to manipulate time. This sigil, if my source is correct, is the very same one she would draw when doing so, and thus her crest, the Crest of Flames, features prominently in it.” It had not been a total lie - in fact, none of it was, factually, a lie. But he still felt badly for misleading Hubert. If it hadn’t been for Byleth’s insistence… “Your second thought, if you would?”

“The scaling. It’s all off.” Bereth raised an eyebrow. “If your notes here were applied to a man of average height and constitution, the scale of this sigil would be nearly equal to his height. The amount of power drawn from the caster’s crest, assuming for a moment that _that_ issue were resolved, would be too much for most people to survive. A crestless mage, like myself, would be overcome almost immediately. Someone with a powerful magical crest, such as that of Gloucester, or perhaps Cethleann, _might_ be able to survive, but… Actually, that leads to another scaling issue. The Crest of Flames is not the same size as a normal crest would be. The whole thing would have to be painstakingly recalibrated to fit another…” His eyes flicked to a second sheet on the desk, one of the scrap sheets Bereth had drawn on using his own crest instead. “Yes, this precisely. Using the Crest of Seiros as a base, you can see how much needs to be adjusted. It is, to put it bluntly, a logistical nightmare.”

Bereth laughed. “Yes, indeed. That’s about where I got stuck. If any insights strike you please feel free to tell me, but otherwise, we really ought to get to why you’ve come today…” He was ready to teach now - something in him felt _correct_ at the idea of teaching someone.

Hubert sipped his coffee in silence for a moment. Then, without looking up from the scrap sheet, he spoke again. “I have one final question before we continue, if that’s acceptable.” Bereth nodded, unsure of what Hubert was thinking. “I find it curious which crest you chose for this particular attempt. Rather than one of the major magical crests, you instead chose the Crest of Seiros. One might wonder if, perhaps, the archbishop were attempting to expand her rule to all of time.”

Ah. He suspected him of working on this for Lady Rhea? Interesting. Byleth might want to know about this… He finished his coffee to give him time to think of the right words, then sighed. “Well, I suppose it’s not too terribly large of a secret. The attempt you see there is for myself. You see, I was blessed with a miracle - I have possessed a major Crest of Seiros since my birth. Now, before you ask, I have nothing to do with Adrestia or its royal family. I have it on good authority that neither of my parents had any roots there. This,” he gestured at the sigils, “was merely an attempt to see if one blessing from the goddess might impact another.”

He stood, motioning for Hubert to do the same. “But, that is a discussion we can have at a later date. For now, let us move to the real reason you came here today.” He smiled broadly, and to his surprise Hubert actually returned the gesture in a small, barely perceptible smile of his own.

\---

The month passed quickly by, and soon, Byleth awoke on a lazy Sunday morning scarcely more than a week from when her class was to depart for Gaspard territory. She stretched, reveling in the warm morning glow, when she noticed Sothis smirking at her.

“What?” she asked, slightly apprehensive. The little goddess had become more and more mischievous, and it was enough to make her nervous sometimes. She said nothing in return, simply giggling to herself. “What?” Byleth asked again, more firmly.

“ _You have forgotten what day it is, haven’t you_?” There was an annoying sing-song quality to Sothis’ voice, and Byleth got the distinct impression she was being mocked. Growling a little as she sat up, she pointed to the large calendar on her wall. “How could I? I see that thing every time I wake up.” Actually… What _was_ today again? The 22nd of Garland Moon, right. The summer solstice. Why did Sothis care? Then, a realization hit her.

“It’s Edelgard’s birthday!” she cried, leaping out of bed. A thousand ideas buzzed around in her mind at once, and she sifted through them rapidly. What was she going to do? Tea would probably work, but she was out of bergamot, so she would _have_ to go into town. What would she give her? Edelgard _was_ a princess, so the gift had to be quality (even if she _weren’t_ important to Byleth, which she was). But then, it couldn’t be _too_ ostentatious. Also, she was a professor, and Edelgard was her student. She couldn’t get her anything that crossed ethical boundaries, even as memories played in her mind of several past lifetimes where she hadn’t exactly cared about those… If she went practical, then it would have to be something with function, form, and sentimental value… She couldn’t just buy her a silver axe and call it good. Mind working furiously, Byleth began to dress and get ready for the day, and before she really knew it, she was out the door, on her way to town.

Perhaps jewelry? Then again, nothing she could afford would be of the kind of quality Edelgard deser-- was accustomed to. Also, the implications with jewelry were fraught. No, that wasn’t going to work… She reached the tea shop sooner than expected. Either her feet had been flying, or she was deeper in thought that she realized. Picking up some bergamot, as well as refilling her reserves of other types of tea, would put a severe dent into her funds. Especially after the highway robbery rates that Anna had charged her for that disgusting liquor earlier that month, money was tight right now.

She decided on it anyway - it was important to be prepared. She would just have to put her mind back into the frugal space she occupied as a mercenary for a while. “ _You could always copy that blond boy and give her a dagger_.” Sothis was particularly unhelpful, enjoying Byleth’s frantic pace as she was. “Shut it, you” was Byleth’s only response.

Edelgard’s interests included intellectual pursuits, beautiful art, maintaining her hair, drawing, and dancing… She likely had enough strategy games to last her a lifetime already, and the palace at Enbarr was _full_ of beautiful works of art. A ceremonial weapon would be too much baggage for their lifestyle at the monastery… Her hair care products would have been out of Byleth’s price range even if she had scrimped and saved for months, owing to the delicate nature of her cursed hair, so that was out as well. And it wasn’t like she could get her dancing lessons - she was already three times the dancer Byleth would ever be. 

Aha! She enjoyed drawing, but was always so embarrassed by her work. She had an artist’s soul… If she had never gotten drawn into the web of Those Who Slither-- No. Byleth had spent far too long in other lifetimes bemoaning how this world took sensitive, wonderful children, broke their spirits, and turned them into killers.

But now, at least, she had a direction. It would probably exhaust her funds for a while, but it was worth it.

\---

Edelgard found herself whisked away by the Professor, though rather than taking their tea in the gardens, they were in Byleth’s quarters. She had to constantly try not to blush as she took in the sights. The space was bare and utilitarian, but that was unsurprising. Byleth didn’t spend a lot of time there aside from sleeping, it would seem. Still, in that moment, it was perfect.

The crisp, citrusy aroma of bergamot filled the room, and Byleth’s wonderful laugh rang out as she recounted stories from her mercenary days. Edelgard felt content, and warm, and safe. The sweet buns Byleth had somehow obtained fresh from the kitchen despite it being mid-afternoon helped tremendously. She smiled, feeling relaxed once more. Byleth’s presence was such a balm to her troubled soul…

Byleth too looked lost in the moment. Her eyes were like oceans, sparkling in the light of the setting sun filtering in through the window. She watched, enraptured, as those eyes flickered to and fro across Edelgard’s face, then dipped lower, then immediately shot back upwards, glancing at Edelgard’s eyes once again. They broke eye contact as that same disembodied voice she’d heard before rang out nearby, this time in a cackle. “ _You love-struck fool! What happened to keeping a safe distance from these thoughts? Not that_ I _mind. It’s very entertaining."_ Byleth jumped like she’d been struck. Had she heard the voice too?

The two of them said nothing for a while, feeling awkward. “Before we end this, I, ah, wanted to give you something. It _is_ your birthday, after all.” Byleth reached down, grabbed a wrapped package, and handed it to her. Edelgard’s pulse quickened - Byleth had gotten her a gift? How kind this woman was… She extricated her gift from the wrapping, before growing still.

In her hands was a handsome, leather-bound book. Several pencils were attached to it with twine, and on the opposite side from the spine was a sturdy metal lock. Opening the book, she found it blank. 

“I know you’re a very private person, but at the same time I… had a hunch that you enjoy drawing. So I got you a sketchbook and some pencils, and made sure it had a lock, so you can keep your drawings to yourself if you want. Here’s the key.” She reached into a pocket, produced a small bronze key, and placed it in Edelgard’s hand.

Tears threatened to break free from her eyes at any moment. “I… My teacher. This is one of the most thoughtful gifts I have ever received. I don’t… Thank you.” Byleth smiled widely. “I do have one condition, though!” Her face grew serious for a moment, before another grin crashed through her attempt to be intimidating. “If you ever draw _me_ , make sure you get my good side.” Edelgard flushed harder than she had ever thought possible as Byleth began doing little poses and flexing, laughing all the while.

\---

That week passed in a blur. Byleth was nearly ready to head out, which meant she had to now, for the first time in this lifetime, involve Hubert as a variable in her plans. Edelgard, she was fairly confident she could deal with. Hubert was always another issue entirely. For all their talk of his “unwavering loyalty”, she knew for a fact that Hubert would often disobey orders he felt were detrimental to Edelgard. He showed a startling amount of initiative for a retainer - there was a reason that he was Edelgard’s left hand during the war. She had arranged for Edelgard and Hubert to come up to Jeralt’s office while he was having one of his talks with Manuela. At least, she _hoped_ they were just talking. After that _Anna_ woman’s persistent attempts to get at her father, Byleth was very wary of overly familiar women being around him.

Soon, though, her concern was pushed from her mind. Edelgard and Hubert let themselves into the office without warning, and she was certain the dark mage had taken perverse joy in the look of fear on her face as soon as she realized the door was opening. “Damn it, knock next time,” Byleth grumbled, sounding all the world like her father.

“My apologies, Professor. I had assumed that you were expecting us.” His tone was overly polite, which she recognized as how he insulted foolish guests in the Imperial Palace to their faces during her time with the Empire in previous lifetimes. “Apology accepted, despite your meaning. Now then, we’ve got a lot of ground to cover and not a lot of time. I’d ask that you hold your questions until I finish.” She pulled out her ‘general voice’ in an attempt to make Hubert comply, and to her amusement, it seemed to be working.

For the next ten minutes or so, she detailed what her plan was, and the various moving pieces that were a part of it. It was, admittedly, a risk - Hubert didn’t need to know everything beyond his immediate role. But she recalled fondly when Hubert would give _her_ more information than she strictly needed during the war. Perhaps it was simply paying him back early. When she finished, she saw that Edelgard was smiling.

“Any questions or concerns?” She looked between the two of them. Edelgard shook her head, having already hashed out her concerns in private. Hubert glowered, and she was unsure if that meant he wasn’t a fan of the plan, or merely of her. “None about what I am needed to do. If that is all you ask of me, I will certainly accomplish my tasks. But I must admit to some… curiosity. Why save this man?”

Byleth hummed. She had expected this question sooner or later. “I suppose you have a right to know, since you’re helping me.” She paused, turning her answer over in her head. She couldn’t say it was to stop Ashe from falling helplessly into depression over the death of his father, though that was certainly part of it. She couldn’t say that it was to ease the burden on Dimitri’s fragile mind, either. She would have to give him an unsatisfying answer, which would do absolutely nothing to increase his trust in her. 

“You’re not going to like this answer, but it is the only one I can give you right now. Some day, if things go right, I’ll tell you more details. For now, all I can say is that his death would do more harm than good in the world.” She watched as his eyes narrowed. “That is hardly--” Edelgard shot Hubert a stern look, silencing him. “I believe in the professor’s plan. I do not know specific details either, but… Why must our time here only increase the amount of misery in the world, Hubert? Even if our paths in life lie in shadows, why can we not do some good now?”

Hubert looked as though he was going to vomit, laugh, or cry. Perhaps all three at once. Finally he found his voice again. “If that is what Your Highness wishes, I will comply. For now.” He shook his head in disbelief, but Byleth knew that for Hubert, that was as good as a guarantee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a short chapter on purpose, because next time we're heading off to Gaspard territory. I considered doing a Hubert POV since he features so heavily in this, but I opted instead to give Bereth more time in the sun in his place, and since Bereth isn't going to be showing up at all while the Eagles are off trying not to do a murder. Prepare yourselves for softboy Ashe central in the next few!
> 
> Edited 01/02/21 for consistency and quality.


	14. Sea of Fog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth officially meets Catherine, Edelgard and Hubert discuss the plan, and the Battle of Magdred Way threatens more lives than one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CN for disturbing imagery during Edelgard's first POV section spelling out the implications of the Battle of Fhirdiad from Crimson Flower.

Byleth and the Black Eagles strapped their gear to their chosen mounts outside the stables. The day was warm, but not unpleasantly so, and the more talkative Eagles were chatting away with each other and the church soldiers who would be accompanying them. It would have made her smile, had Byleth not known what was coming for them, or seen the nervous strain displaying itself on their faces even as they tried to smile normally. She hadn’t let slip that they were going to be fighting militia, but her lessons that moon had covered asymmetrical tactics, ambush and counter-ambush strategies, and how to operate in an environment with an unclear chain of command. She’d wanted to work with them on fighting in inclement weather, but that was impossible due to the persistent mildness of the Garland Moon thus far, and likely would have raised too many questions anyway. She sighed.

“So, you’re that professor I’ve heard so much about!” A loud, boisterous voice came from the other side of her horse, and as Byleth finished strapping her steel blade to the saddle, she laid eyes on Catherine. Her white armor shone dazzlingly in the sun, and her short blonde hair played around her head, accentuating the wide smile she had on. Byleth repressed the urge to shiver.

She had, of course, crossed blades with almost every single student and faculty member at Garreg Mach during her many lifetimes of war - the only one she’d never actually fought as an enemy was Marianne. The rumors she had heard of Marianne’s fate in the few lifetimes she hadn’t found ways to aid her troubled spirit made her blood run cold… And the thought of having to _fight_ her made her heart ache. But enemy or ally, she had learned to let go of her hard feelings towards almost all of them, except Catherine. As Rhea’s most trusted and stalwart knight, her loyalty knew no bounds. The first time she had met Catherine in the burning streets of Fhirdiad, she and Shamir had pleaded with Catherine to try to stop Rhea’s madness, or at the very least _admit_ that she knew it was wrong. Catherine, however, steadfastly refused. Ever since then, she had been wary of Catherine.

She became aware that she had been staring, likely with an unkind expression on her face. Catherine didn’t express that she was bothered by it outwardly, though. “Heard you were some kind of hot-shot mercenary before this. Guess that must be the face of the ‘Ashen Demon’, huh? Too bad we haven’t had a chance to cross blades before this.” Byleth’s eyes flickered to the hilt of Thunderbrand, causing Catherine to laugh. “Oh, no, I wouldn’t fight you with Thunderbrand. You’d die before I got a good fight out of you!”

Finding her voice at last, Byleth kept her tone as neutral as possible. “I don’t intend on dying any time soon.” Catherine fixed her with a strange, questioning look. “It was only a joke, Professor. I wouldn’t _actually_ try to kill you, unless you betrayed Lady Rhea or something stupid like that.” An awkward silence passed between them, and Byleth felt Edelgard’s eyes on her. 

“So, this everyone? I must say, they’re looking pretty well-prepared. They’re on cleanup duty, not active battle.” Catherine nodded towards the students - the weapons and armor they were packing were clearly for an actual fight. “Cleanup duty? I thought we were vanguard support, not _throat-cutters_.” Byleth spat the word out - she hated that part of the job. Catherine cocked an eyebrow. “Easy there. There won’t be much actual work, but if it comes to that I have orders to make sure all forces are pacified. That won’t be a problem, will it?” Byleth silently considered running her through, before shaking her head.

“Either way, we’re still missing one.” Ashe was nowhere to be found. Byleth was nervous for him - this whole trip could either forge him into the kind of man she knew he could become, or break him. She’d seen both happen, and vowed to never let his spirit break like that again. “Oh, yeah? Thought this was all the Eagles. You’ve even got that tiny one with the Crest of Charon from Leicester.” Catherine idly scratched her chin, but she had her eyes locked on Lysithea, who had been chatting animatedly to Edelgard from atop her horse.

“You can tell her crest on sight?” Byleth was taken aback - this was news to her. Catherine looked thoughtful for a moment. “Well… Not exactly. It’s not a sight thing. I get… Strong hunches, I guess you could call it. Let’s see.” She turned towards the rest of the Eagles, focusing on each one in turn. 

“Hmm… The annoying redhead noble boy gives off Cichol vibes.” Byleth had to try very hard not to snort with laughter at this, and she passed it off by humming. Sothis cackled loudly, not bothering to stay quiet. Some distance away, Edelgard stiffened at the sound, and Byleth had to repress the urge to chastise the goddess then and there. “The sleepy mage who keeps asking me if he can touch Thunderbrand feels like a Cethleann. Very warm and soothing kind of energy from it, it’s easy to tell from others. The purple-haired one who’s nervous all the time feels… Watery? That’s the kind of feeling I get from people with the Crest of Indech, like Hanneman.” Turning towards Edelgard, Catherine scowled. “I already know the princess there has a Crest of Seiros, but it’s always bothered me that she doesn’t _feel_ like it. Something’s off about it, but… I dunno, that’s Hanneman’s thing, not mine.”

Pointing toward herself, Catherine continued. “I’ve got a Crest of Charon, so I recognized it almost immediately in that Ordelia girl. But there’s something else about her that I can’t place. I’d compare the feeling to that annoying Gloucester boy, but I already know she’s got Charon, so…” She shrugged. Frowning, she looked at Byleth. “I can’t tell what’s going on with you, either. Not at all. Your father’s got a Crest of Seiros, and it’s nearly as clear as Lady Rhea’s, but you… I have absolutely no idea what yours is. Guess that’s why Hanneman’s so excitable these days, eh?”

Huh. What a useful and potentially dangerous talent Catherine had. She made a mental note of it, and a second note to keep her away from Edelgard at all costs once Byleth's crest was revealed by the Sword of the Creator. Catherine sighing broke her from her plotting. “So who is it we’re missing?”

“Ah, that would be--” Before she could finish, she heard running footsteps. “Professor! I’m here! I’m so sorry I’m late, I was…” Ashe stopped dead in his tracks as he caught sight of Catherine. A potent mix of emotions whirled through his eyes - fear, anger, and sorrow chief among them. Catherine didn’t look much better, but all she saw in her eyes was sorrow and guilt. “ _Guilt? Interesting. I wonder if you could adjust Hubert’s orders to take advantage of that?_ ” Sothis had floated over to Ashe, concern showing on her face for the boy, but she turned her head back towards Byleth at the end of her sentence, her face set in a grimace. “ _That’s very cruel of you… But, on the other hand, I never liked her. Maybe it’ll even do her some good_.”

Stepping forward and placing a hand on Ashe’s shoulder, Byleth steered him forward. “I’m glad you made it. Go ahead and get your gear loaded. We’re setting out very shortly.” In a smaller voice, she added, “And if you need to talk, you know where to find me, okay?” The grey-haired boy nodded solemnly, and walked over towards the assembled Eagles, who welcomed him.

Byleth turned back to Catherine. She looked forlorn. “Everything alright, Dame Catherine?” Annoyance flickered in Catherine’s eyes, and she looked at Byleth again. “Drop the ‘Dame’ garbage. I’m a knight, not a ‘lady knight’. And… And yeah. Everything’s great.” She dropped a stoic face over her emotions, and walked away to saddle up her own mount. Byleth went to go have a word with Hubert in private.

\---

The journey toward Castle Gaspard from Garreg Mach was, all told, not a long trip. It took two days on horseback or three by carriage, and wound north past the Sealed Forest, down into a mountain pass, and out onto the Magdred Way. Magdred was a picturesque countryside area, unique in the Kingdom for being spared the full harshness of its winters by virtue of lying in a combe. The downside to this was that it had a reputation for thick, nigh-impassable fog that would roll down from the nearby mountains.

These were all things Edelgard knew from her studies, but… Seeing the area in person was truly something else entirely. It was _gorgeous_ country, and it hardly looked like Faerghus at all to her mind. Before she knew it, Edelgard had her sketchbook out, trying to capture the landscape during their group’s rests, and even a little while on horseback. She was so engrossed in her art during one such rest break that she didn’t notice Bernadetta coming over to sit by her under the shade of a tree. The purple-haired girl said nothing for a while, content with watching Edelgard work. Finally, she spoke up, startling Edelgard considerably.

“Wow, Lady Edelgard! I had no idea you were such a good artist! It… oh. Oh no. Oh no no no. I’ve interrupted you and now you’re going to punish me for it, aren’t you? Stupid Bernie, you always ruin everything!” Edelgard started to try to soothe Bernadetta, even as her mind replayed her compliment over and over. She grew pink in the cheeks. Bernadetta thought she was a good artist? 

“Bernadetta, please. I am not going to punish you. I give you my word. No manner of unpleasant thing is going to befall you. I… I actually, ah, greatly appreciate your compliment about my art. I’ve never really shown anyone before, and so…” Edelgard was frustrated - why was this difficult for her? She had no issues with public speaking, but all it took was one well-meaning word of appreciation about her art… 

“Aw, Edie, you aren’t tongue-tied, are you? If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were embarrassed about being a good artist.” Dorothea had crept up at some point, and Edelgard nearly kicked herself. How were her instincts this off right now? The brunette came and sat on her other side, much too close. “It is actually _quite_ good, you know. I didn’t know you drew.” Blushing deeper, Edelgard swallowed hard. “I usually don’t. I received this shortly before our journey here, and was inspired by the landscape around us.” True enough, though it left out entirely that she loved to draw in secret.

Dorothea hummed, a strange look in her eyes. “What a _thoughtful_ gift that was. I wonder who it might have been from…” Edelgard instinctively clutched the sketchbook closer. She did _not_ want Dorothea to take it, and find the little note Byleth had left for her on the final page. It was innocuous enough (" _Happy birthday, Edelgard! Yours, Byleth"_ ), but it was personal. Dorothea laughed - even her laughs were beautiful, somehow - and smiled good-naturedly at Edelgard. “I suppose that answers that question, then.” Pink gave way to crimson now. “I-I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She willed herself to disappear into the ground, but nature refused to bow to her.

“Lady Edelgard received that fine gift from Professor Byleth for her birthday some days ago. I inspected it to ensure no poisons or other… untowardness, lay hidden within.” Hubert appeared from behind the tree, a smirk on his face. “ _Hubert!_ ” The betrayal in her voice was evident, and Dorothea laughed again. Even Bernadetta was laughing now, quietly. “If you ladies would excuse us, I’m afraid I need to have some _words_ with my oh-so-loyal retainer.” Edelgard set her face into a stony expression, praying that her blush had at least gone down somewhat. Dorothea got up, still laughing. “While I don’t want to miss this, I suppose we ought to go check in with the others. Coming, Bern?”

The two of them walked away, Dorothea jabbering at Bernadetta, who looked, at least to her credit, not completely uncomfortable for once. Edelgard sighed, then rounded on Hubert. “How _could_ you--” Hubert shook his head. “Before this chastisement, there was something I wished to speak to you about concerning our mission.” He motioned for her to follow him some distance away, standing between some trees that he had marked with strange sigils. She cocked an eyebrow at him. “Muffling spells. It took a little work, but I have altered the spell to cast in a small area of effect. Essentially, within these sigils, it is impossible for anyone to overhear us.” Edelgard was impressed. She knew Hubert was smart, but this kind of thing was beyond her, even with the rudimentary Reason magic she had been learning in class.

“Well done, then. This will be an asset to us. Now… What is it that you wanted to talk about?” He rubbed his hands one over the other, a nervous habit she recognized from his childhood. It meant that he was uncomfortable, which intrigued Edelgard even more. “The Professor has altered the plan. Specifically my portion of it. Her instructions for the spell I am to cast are quite… Disturbing.” He had a grim look in his eye. “Whatever do you mean by that?”

Hubert sighed. “What she has asked me to construct is both oddly specific and gruesome. Before, I was merely to trap Catherine in a false world where she would do menial tasks for Rhea. Simple, and hardly even worthy of the moniker of dark magic. Now, though… She instructed me to place her in a specific spot in the city of Fhirdiad at night. The city will be burning. Rhea will be there, demanding increasingly heinous things, and then… Are you familiar with the name Christophe Gaspard?” Edelgard shook her head. “I did a little research into this man, Lonato. Lonato Gildas Gaspard is a former knight of Rufus of House Blaiddyd, the current regent of Faerghus, and he no longer has any family of his own blood. Ashe, the boy we brought with us, was adopted into his house seven years ago, but at the time, Lonato had his own heir.” Edelgard hummed, filing this new information away. “I assume that is where the name Christophe comes in?” Hubert nodded.

“Christophe Gaspard was executed by the Church of Seiros four years ago, in connection with the Tragedy of Duscur, though records from the Kingdom written after his death do not indicate his guilt in that event. He was handed over to the church by his lover, the former heir of House Charon, Cassandra. The two were, apparently, classmates in the Blue Lions house some ten years ago, and both had been implicated in the Tragedy. Neither were truly involved, evidently, but Christophe _was_ part of a plot to assassinate Rhea, which, of course, failed. To clear her family’s name, Cassandra gave Christophe to the church to be executed, and assumed a new identity as one of the Knights of Seiros.” Hubert shifted uncomfortably.

“I do not know how the Professor came to all this knowledge, nor do I know how she knows that Cassandra of House Charon is, in fact, Catherine of the Knights of Seiros. However, I imagine that you see where this is going.” Edelgard swallowed. Hubert pulled out a cutting from a painting, showing a younger Catherine, blonde hair shoulder-length then, standing next to a sandy-haired man with a kind face. “I am to conjure up this man, Christophe Gaspard, and use Catherine’s feelings of guilt against her. That is fine. What concerns me more is the setting, and our Professor’s uncanny knowledge.”

“Is it not possible that she simply did her research, like you?” Edelgard was apprehensive - this move did not feel _right_ coming from Byleth, she had to admit. “Of course. That is my assumption as well, unless you know differently from your large amount of time spent with her.” Edelgard blushed, but shook her head. Hubert continued on, unimpeded. “As I said, the setting bothers me a great deal. Rhea will begin this sequence of events by ordering Catherine to set Fhirdiad ablaze. She will then order her to put to the sword unarmed civilians, women, and children. Finally, a wounded Christophe will appear to her, begging for aid. Rhea will order his death as well.” Attempting to mask her concern, Edelgard shook her head again. “I did not think that you would balk at such things. On the bloody path I must walk, I may order you to do the same, if… No.”

Hubert looked at Edelgard, waiting for her to continue. “No,” she repeated. “I could not order that. I would never be able to order that. Thinking about it disgusts me.” Hubert hummed. “It is for this reason that I am disturbed. When the Professor spoke to me about this, her face looked… haunted. It is far too specific for my liking. I believe we may need to place her under closer, and more… impartial, shall we say, observation.” Edelgard stilled. Sighing, she looked away towards the rest of her class, and towards Byleth. “Fine. But do not harm her. Understood?” Hubert bowed, and the two went to rejoin the group.

\---

As fog rolled in on the morning of the second day of their trip, Byleth felt a growing unease. She knew that this fog was a magical one, and that it heralded the appearance of Lonato and his militia. Now it was time to see if this was going to work like she planned. Her latest alterations could make or break this, but it was a risk she had to take to make everything work out. Gathering Edelgard, Hubert, and Ashe together, she stepped away from the main group.

“They’re upon us,” she said simply. All three looked startled by her statement. She spoke quickly before they had a chance to ask her any questions. “This fog that’s rolling in is only partially natural. The bulk of it is magical in nature. Don’t stray too far into the fog, any of you. There’s going to be enemy militia waiting in there. Edelgard, you’re going to be in charge. Keep everyone safe.” Edelgard nodded grimly. “Hubert. I trust you understand your role?” He nodded as well, eyes fixed on Byleth’s the whole time. “ _He suspects you know more than you should,_ ” Sothis whispered in her mind. It was true that changing their plan was a risk, but… This might break Catherine of her fanatical devotion to Rhea if Byleth was unable to prevent the war from breaking out later on in the year.

“Ashe, the two of us are going to meet Lonato. I'll be warping us directly to his location. One thing to keep in mind is that, when we warp, it’s going to be disorienting for a few seconds. Whatever you do, don’t ready your weapons. It’s imperative that we meet with Lonato unarmed. If he’s as honorable as you say he is, he won’t attack unarmed people.” He nodded, looking like he was going to be sick. “Okay. If you three will give me a moment, I need to prepare.”

She walked a few paces away, then knelt into a meditative position. Sothis appeared in her mind’s eye, worry marking her face. “ _I do not like this plan!_ ” Her hands were on her hips, and right now it seemed anger was winning over fear. “ _It’s going to be fine. How many days have we spent apart from one another at Garreg Mach? Nothing bad happened, not once._ ” She tried to think soothing thoughts, though all that did was cause Sothis to give a frustrated huff. “ _That is not the same thing and you know it! We have never once fought separated! What will you do without me to save you from your own foolishness?_ ”

“ _You won’t_ need _to step in and save me. I’m not going to be in combat, I’m going to be talking. If I truly do badly enough at that to need you… I’ll send a spell into the air. That’ll be our signal, and you can come and yell at me, and tell me what a fool I am. Is that acceptable?_ ” Sothis crossed her arms, unwilling to look Byleth in the eye. “ _Hey, come on. We’re a team. I need you where you are if this is going to work. You know as well as I do how much I hate being apart from you. Please, trust me._ ” At last, Sothis met her eyes. 

“ _Fine. I will do what I must. Not a single little one will fall on my watch. But if I have to turn back time to save them, I will have to communicate with her. You know what that means, don’t you?_ ” Byleth nodded solemnly. “ _If what you’ve said before is correct, she was going to find out eventually. Let’s just… let’s just hope you don’t need to intervene. They’ve all been well-trained, and they’re fighting militia. As long as they don’t do something stupid, or get unlucky, they’ll be fine. And I swear, I’ll be fine too._ ” Right. As long as everything went perfectly according to plan…

Rising, she turned and walked over to Edelgard, who was surveying their group. “Hey,” Byleth said softly, placing a hand on her shoulder. “You’re going to do fine. I trust you.” She felt a hollow sensation take hold of her as Sothis attached her presence to Edelgard. Edelgard didn’t appear to notice, instead placing a hand on Byleth’s. “You as well, my teacher. Accomplish your task, and return to us.” They stayed like that for a moment, as the fog grew thicker. Squeezing Edelgard’s shoulder, she withdrew her hand, then spoke again. “Before I go, I’m going to have the church soldiers plant torches for the perimeter. Once I’m gone, stay well back from it. The church soldiers may want to charge ahead, though I expect at least a few will stay behind once Catherine is down. They’re… Don’t worry about them running off. If you can _safely_ locate the mage causing the fog feel free to take him down, but otherwise, stay in position.”

Just then, a soldier ran up to Catherine, who stood several meters away, oblivious to their plotting. “Reporting! The enemy is approaching in large numbers! They can’t be avoided. They used this fog to slip past our main force’s perimeter!” Catherine looked grim, and unsheathed Thunderbrand. The blade glowed red, casting an eerie glow in the fog.

“Looks like our mission just changed, Professor. Everyone, prepare for batt-- ugh!”

\---

Hubert’s speed and precision with spellcasting were unmatched. It hadn’t surprised Edelgard in the slightest that he’d hit Catherine then and there. She slumped to the ground, unresponsive. The soldiers had started to panic until Byleth began barking orders at the top of her lungs. Together with the Black Eagles, the soldiers put down torches in a loose semi-circle, and formed a defensive line behind them. With the narrow walls of the combe forming a natural barrier on either side of the line, they at least had security on three sides. Hubert, as ordered, then shouted out “Professor! This fog is not natural. It is tinged with dark magic!”

Byleth gave Edelgard a wink, which made her blush slightly. “Alright everyone, listen up! I want this perimeter held. Anyone who comes through that fog is an enemy. Strike them down if they won’t give up, but don’t rush off into conflict. Once Catherine wakes up, obey her orders. In the meantime, I’m going to go find that mage. Ashe, you know the terrain, so you’re with me.” He nodded in grim determination. The two of them stalked off into the fog, and Edelgard heard the faint sound of warp magic. It was deathly silent for a moment.

Then, all hell broke loose. The militia charged past the torches, revealing themselves only to be mercilessly cut down. These were simple folk - farmers and tailors, and often either too young or too old, so fighting them was no great challenge for the Black Eagles’ skills… But the weight they felt in their hearts was another matter entirely. Still, they could never truly ease up, as wave after wave of militia ran out, seemingly endless in the fog. Bernadetta and Petra led a handful of church archers in keeping careful watch for enemy ranged fighters, but they were few and far between. Teaching a peasant to shoot a bow took dramatically more time and effort than teaching them to swing an axe, after all. 

Unfortunately, they had begun to take wounds. Caspar and Ferdinand were both covered in small cuts and bruises, with the former sporting a dramatic (though mercifully shallow) gash on his left arm. One of the church soldiers had fallen already, overwhelmed when several militia rushed him at once. Hubert was hanging back under the pretext of watching Catherine, since Linhardt and Dorothea were needed as full-time healers. 

Edelgard stood, swinging her axe mightily, the blood of another poor, innocent fool spraying all over her armor. She sighed, leaning on her axe, when she suddenly felt a searing pain in her neck. Gasping, she looked down to spot an arrow protruding from one of the gaps in her armor, and she felt herself falling down to the ground. She knew this was death, that she was-- swinging her axe mightily, the blood of another… Wait. What just happened? Just then, she heard the now-familiar disembodied voice cry out: “ _Get down, you fool! The arrow!_ ” Unthinking, Edelgard threw herself forward. An arrow whizzed by overhead. “Sorry, Lady Edelgard! We’ll get him!” Bernadetta’s voice rang out from somewhere behind her.

Standing shakily, Edelgard felt at her neck. No arrow, no wound, not even a scratch. Keeping her voice low so none of the Eagles would hear her and become concerned, Edelgard tried to address The Voice. “What… just happened to me? I thought I died, but then…” She heard a long sigh. “ _I told her this was not going to go well. But did she listen to me? No, of course not. Why listen to the wise and powerful time goddess who is always right, when you could follow your own foolish plan!_ ” The Voice was shouting now, not at Edelgard, but at someone else. 

“I… What are you even talking about?” Edelgard tried to force herself to scan the battlefield for foes, but her concentration was ruined. “ _I told her you could hear me. I bet if I made myself visible you’d see me, too. In fact_ …” With a small pop, the girl from the night when Byleth had confessed her thoughts about the church appeared before Edelgard, arms crossed. Was she… pouting? Actually, hang that. Was she floating?!

“ _So, can you see me, or not?_ ” The girl’s eyes, a vivid shade of green, focused on Edelgard. “I-I… yes. I suppose I can. Wha-- who, rather, are you?” The girl whirled around, and then disappeared. “ _More are coming. Continue fighting and I will answer your questions as much as I am able to, though I should warn you that I will not tell you everything. Your feeble, mortal mind would not understand._ ” Edelgard felt as though she ought to be offended by that, but she was still having trouble processing what was going on in the first place. Shrugging, she hefted her axe, and dove back into the fray.

\---

Byleth and Ashe re-appeared next to the ruins where Lonato was holed up. Surprised by the sudden appearance of two armed individuals, Lonato’s knights formed ranks and prepared to charge, only to be halted by the man himself. Byleth took out her steel blade, and plunged it into the ground, walking a few paces away from it. Ashe followed suit with his bow and quiver, coming to stand by Byleth’s side. “Lord Lonato,” she said, her voice commanding. “We’ve come to talk. Will you speak with us? Or were the stories I heard of your honor untrue?”

Lonato stared at her for a moment. The fog wasn’t quite as thick back here, and he could see her about as well as she could see him, though he obviously had not noticed Ashe yet. “You speak of more than yourself, girl?” Lonato’s voice was loud and strong, and she shuddered to think about the kind of warrior he must have been in his youth.

“I do. I’ve brought someone along with me who wanted very badly to speak with you.” Stepping aside, she let Ashe walk forward. His eyes were shining with what she thought were tears, but as he opened his mouth, she was taken aback by the steel in his voice. “Lonato! Why are you doing this?” A familiar lurching sensation told her that Sothis had just rewound time. Trying desperately not to think about the implications of that, Byleth turned her attention back to Lonato.

Lonato’s eyes widened. “Ashe?! What is the meaning of this? You should be at the monastery, not here! If you’ve come, then… Then that vile woman has sent you to kill me. Is that not so?”

Byleth spoke up. “That was indeed our mission, but I decided that a good man did not need to die today, and made certain arrangements of my own.” Lonato’s gaze was on her now, sizing her up. “And just who are you, to speak so forcefully?” Byleth smiled. “My name is Byleth Eisner, a professor at the Officer’s Academy at Garreg Mach. I am also Ashe’s friend.” Lonato’s eyes narrowed at her name. “Eisner? Your father, then, is he... “ 

Lonato knew Jeralt? How odd. They had done some mercenary work in Gaspard territory before, but it was more likely that Lonato knew him from his time as knight-captain before her birth.

“Yes. My father is Jeralt, the Blade-Breaker. He and I returned to Garreg Mach a few months ago.” Lonato laughed, his voice booming. “I have not seen that man in years! It is good to hear that he still lives. But…” His smile fell, and he grew deathly serious once more. “You must explain, Byleth, daughter of Jeralt, what it is that you meant earlier. Are you here to stop me?”

“In a way, I suppose. I already told you I have no intent of killing you here. Neither will Ashe, if that worried you. I will not allow Rhea to make a patricide of an innocent boy. But, we cannot simply let you continue your rebellion either. While I am able to rewrite the rules on the ground, I cannot stop Rhea’s judgment in the end. That’s why I want to propose a deal.” 

Lonato eyed her cautiously. “Give me a reason why I should entertain this farce any further. Rhea is an infidel! She has deceived the people, and desecrated the goddess! I will not surrender to her without a compelling reason.”

“Of course, Lord Lonato. You see, I agree with you, more or less. Rhea _has_ deceived the people, for years. The truth of the matter is more complicated than those who told you this truth have made it out to seem, but that at least is the truth. So, why would I ask you to surrender to her?” Byleth raised her arms for dramatic effect. “It is simple, Lord Lonato. You are a good man, and those who have goaded you into this conflict and abused your righteous anger at the death of your son are _not_ good men. The Western Church does not rebel against Rhea for reasons of piety, but for greed and a lust for power. And the ones who incited _them_ to rebellion are worse still.”

Lonato’s eyes flashed, and he gripped the haft of his lance tighter. But, a glance at Ashe softened his gaze. He was not interrupting her, either - that was a good sign. Now then… Time for a little embellished history lesson. 

“The power behind the Western Church is an ancient one, which warred with the Goddess herself. They are the ones who corrupted Nemesis, the King of Liberation. They launched a war against Seiros, her prophet. Though they were defeated when Nemesis fell during the Battle of Tailtean, they have remained in the shadows, seeking to undermine the Church of Seiros. First the Southern Church was dissolved. Now the Western Church rises in a rebellion that can only lead to its destruction. The Church is being systematically destroyed, and Rhea, for all her faults, is fighting the true enemy of the Goddess!”

“By committing yourself to this rebellion, you’ve ensured hardship and misery for the people of Gaspard territory. Worse than that, you have thrown your lot in with those who spilled the Goddess’ own blood, and corrupted her champion. These are serious crimes, but it is not too late!” Byleth’s voice was sonorous, and she could tell that she had everyone there under her spell. Time to move in for the kill.

“I know that the Western Church has been plotting an assassination against Rhea. I know that they gave you plans for it, plans that you hold on your person. I know that you came out here today, to die.” A strangled cry escaped Ashe’s lips, as he looked from Lonato to Byleth. “But it doesn’t _need_ to be this way. You still have Ashe! You still have your people. And as much as I know you hate Rhea for what she did to your son Christophe, the Goddess Sothis will forgive you for this! All you need to do is surrender. I, and my father, will do _everything_ in our power to make sure that your efforts aren’t in vain. I will plead your case to Rhea myself if that is what it takes.” She reached out her hand. 

“If you will not agree, then I ask that you strike me down, here and now. Let my blood seal your determination. But if you will agree, then take my hand. Let us end this pointless fighting, together, and rally the Church against its greater foe.”

In the distance, she heard a slow clapping sound. Heavy, clanging footsteps alerted her to someone in armor coming up behind her. Spinning on her heel, Byleth looked out into the fog as a figure, dressed in jet black armor, stepped closer and closer. The figure’s voice was cold and metallic, and she realized with a start that it was the same voice-disguising technology that was in the armor of the Death Knight and Flame Emperor. “Well spoken, Professor. You could have had a grand future as an orator of legend. Alas, your legend ends here.”

Byleth dropped her stance lower, ready to dodge out of the way if need be. She thought quickly... To keep everyone safe, she would have to break her promise. Damn it all.

“Ashe. Get your bow, and run over to Lonato. Protect him, but keep yourself safe. No arguing.” Byleth backed towards her discarded sword, pulling it free. The mysterious figure drew a sword as well, though it was not like any she had ever seen. Made from Agarthan metal, it looked as though it could cleave her in half in a single strike. It had a wicked, hooked curve at the end. Scanning over her opponent’s armor, she saw no ostentatious spikes like the Death Knight’s. It was all flat, interlocking plates that moved independently of one another, likely suggesting that this knight had the same range of motion that she had in her light armor and coat. If she knew anything about fighting Agarthans, that armor would not yield to her sword. She began readying power in her off hand, and began drawing power from her Crest of Flames so that she could heft the heavy steel blade in a single hand.

“Give me an interesting fight before you die, at least…” The figure pantomimed yawning, then turned, ready to fight. In an instant she was locked in battle.

The mysterious knight whirled with incredible speed, slashing to and fro. It was all she could do to keep up with those movements, fighting as she normally did. If she had her full speed from the end of the war, after she’d been fused with Sothis, she could have matched and even exceeded them. But as she was now, Byleth feared she was outmatched unless she dramatically changed her approach. Worse still, overusing her crest would put her out of commission for several days, time during which Rhea could undo all of her work and execute Lonato. She needed to end this fight in less than five additional minutes, by her estimate. Running through possibilities in her mind, Byleth decided on the more rapid style geared for use by mortal savants and began striking, parrying, backing away, and closing with a far greater degree of precision than before, at the cost of raw power. It was a testament to her skill that her opponent had not landed a blow on her yet - even as a regular human, after so long at war, Byleth was the greatest sword fighter in Fodlan in terms of technical ability.

Her opponent had reach and power on her, though, and she slowly felt herself giving ground, growing closer and closer to Lonato and Ashe. Ashe began firing arrows rapidly, and she had to be careful not to get struck by them. One grazed her cheek, and then miraculously found its mark in her opponent’s left forearm as their armor shifted its segments around. A pained grunt escaped the mask, and Byleth used that opportunity to land several strong blows on the left side of her opponent's armored torso - none made so much as a dent, but it gave her the opportunity she needed as her opponent stepped backwards, winded. Focusing all her attention on the arrow, Byleth finally released the spell she had been charging since the beginning of the battle: Aura.

Devastating Light magic tore into her opponent’s left shoulder and side, ripping armor plating off and searing the unnaturally pale skin beneath. They howled in pain, disengaging for a moment. Byleth’s Aura split the sky, and the veil of fog began to dissipate a little despite the continued, nagging presence of the dark mage she could sense nearby. The two stood, panting, then charged one another again. Just before their blades could clash, another flash of light caught her attention off to her right, and with it, the unmistakable sound of warp magic.

\---

“So”, Edelgard hesitantly started, as she brought her axe down on an enemy she’d knocked down just a moment before. “What’s your name? Can we start with that?” The Voice responded back quickly, saying “ _Sorry, that is one of the questions I cannot answer right now._ ” Edelgard huffed, and engaged a scrappy-looking man with a pike. “Alright… Why is it that every other time I’ve encountered you, it’s been around the professor?” A pause. “ _I can’t tell you that either. I_ can _tell you that she was the one who told me to watch out for you, so you’d best be grateful to her._ ”

Something clicked into place in Edelgard’s mind, and she yelled at The Voice. “Wait a minute! You left her defenseless to help me? Why?!” The Voice laughed. “ _Oh I quite agree, it was a foolish plan. However, it was_ her _plan, so rather than shouting at me, you should shout at her later_. _Also, there are many humans I would call defenseless, but Byleth is not one of them_.” That was true enough, she supposed… It was just militia that they had encountered thus far. Nothing to warrant a serious approach. And yet, she _had_ nearly died earlier to a freak accident. “Luck only goes so far, even if one is skilled.” The Voice hummed, a pleasant sound in Edelgard’s mind. “ _I quite agree. Hmm... She said something about luck beforehand. Perhaps she jinxed you?_ ”

The number of militia gradually slowed down, and though she could hear hoarse voices in the fog beyond her, however many were left were evidently thinking twice about breaching their perimeter, which was good. Leaning on her axe, Edelgard paused to catch her breath. Hubert had at some point joined her, and was giving her a strange look. “Lady Edelgard… Are you feeling unwell? I have heard you at multiple points speak to no one. Perhaps you should sit down…”

Ah. Right. How was she to explain this to Hubert when she didn’t know the first thing about The Voice herself? 

The sky tearing open from powerful magic saved her from needing to answer that question, though. The Voice re-materialized, a look of terror on her face. “ _Damn her! She said she was not going to be in combat! You, girl! Get your moody servant to warp us over to that light, now!_ ” Edelgard blinked, unaccustomed to being called “girl” or ordered about by someone who looked like a child... A child who somehow knew that Hubert was able to use Warp magic despite them never telling Byleth about it. “ _There is no time for this! Byleth is in danger! Hurry!_ ” The Voice’s plea grew desperate at the end, and Edelgard knew she was right. 

Turning to Hubert, she ordered him to Warp them to the light.

\---

Byleth and the mysterious knight rushed forward, preparing to lock blades again. Sweat was gathering on her brow; despite her incredible skill, she was now dangerously low on stamina. Casting Aura in the first place was draining, but doing so while drawing from the Crest of Flames was agonizing. But she could not back down now. If she fell here, Ashe would die as well, and Lonato and his men… Edelgard would die here, along with all the Black Eagles. Finding her second wind, Byleth let out a battle cry that was, all of a sudden, matched. Leaping forward, Edelgard’s axe tore through the air, and lopped off the left arm of the mysterious knight. They stumbled backwards, black blood leaking from their ragged wound.

“Interesting. You have proven to be a worthy opponent. Perhaps next time our duel will go un-interrupted. Until we meet again, Professor…” The knight sheathed the wicked curved sword, picked up their severed arm, then disappeared in a Warp spell. Exhausted, Byleth released her crest and fell forward, panting.

Suddenly, her mind was full, as Sothis rushed back into her proper place. “You _!_ _You are a complete and utter fool! How could you engage in combat without me! You swore! You! Y-you…_ ” Sothis was in front of her, anger giving way to relief as tears pricked at her eyes. “ _Do not_ ever _do that again, do you hear me?_ ” Byleth, in spite of herself, smiled. “I’m sorry… But it’s nice to have you back.”

Leaning back into a kneeling position, she came face to face with Edelgard, whose expression nearly mirrored Sothis’. “Ah.” Indignant, Edelgard shouted at her. “Do not ‘Ah’ _me_ , my teacher! You could have been killed had we not intervened! What would we have done if you had died?”

A smile crept onto Byleth’s face. “The same thing I do, I imagine.” Edelgard’s face paled. “Y-you mean…” Her eyes focused on Sothis, who was doing her utmost not to catch Byleth’s attention as she struggled to regain composure. Byleth reached a hand up for support. Edelgard pulled her to her feet, a look of concern on her face. Byleth then addressed the dark mage standing behind her. “Hubert. Thank you for your timely arrival. Can I request that you return and wake Catherine? I need her to be at least conscious when we arrive with Lonato.” He stared at the two of them for a moment, then nodded, vanishing into a column of light.

Turning back to Edelgard, she sighed. “I know you have questions, but this is not the place for me to answer them. We need to clean up here. I will tell you everything you want to know later, alright?” Edelgard searched her face for a moment, then nodded. “Good. Now then.”

She turned, and, supported by Edelgard, made her way over to where Ashe, Lonato, and his knights were standing. Reaching her hand out again, she smiled up at the older man. “You never did tell me if we had a deal or not.” Lonato boomed with laughter. “After a display like that, it would hardly be right of me to take your life and continue this. I surrender.” Motioning to one of his knights, he dismounted, gave his lance to Ashe, and shook Byleth’s hand. The knight blew a horn, the call ringing out across the battlefield to stand down and surrender. Byleth smiled at Ashe, who looked back up at her as if she was the goddess in flesh. Then, in unison, Edelgard and Sothis angrily spat out “ _You gambled your own life?!_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I struggled a little with Byleth's plan to incapacitate Catherine. I've known that I wanted Hubert to "ensnare her with illusion magic" (quoting from my notes) for a while now, but I didn't exactly know how I wanted that to look. I recently played through Crimson Flower, and was, of course, struck by how Catherine never truly questioned Rhea's obviously insane orders before the Battle of Fhirdiad. She made little appeals to questioning them, but she still followed her orders to the letter. But then, as I wrote out Byleth's instructions to Hubert, it started to feel vindictive. The excuse I landed on, which I had Byleth parrot for me, was that this is an attempt to do two things at once. First, and most obvious, is to keep Catherine out of the fight so that Lonato doesn't lose his damn mind during negotiations. But then, it can also be used to theoretically deprogram Catherine's obsessive loyalty to Rhea. Maybe. Or maybe I'm just being mean to Catherine.
> 
> Ashe's presence took kind of a back seat in this chapter, but he'll get more of a chance to shine as the fallout from this whole affair comes into play.
> 
> And we have absolutely not seen the last of this mysterious knight, either...
> 
> Edited 01/02/21 for consistency and quality.


	15. Schism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catherine learns what happened in her absence, Byleth learns that Edelgard experienced a Divine Pulse, and Rhea hands down her judgment.

The mood was tense as Byleth, Ashe, Edelgard, and Lonato picked their way back through the battlefield. The fog had lifted in earnest after Hubert left, which meant that they could all see the carnage as they got closer and closer to the half-ring of torches. Byleth noticed the dark mage who had been creating the fog, lying still in a small copse of trees. Eerie magical spikes protruded from his chest. Edelgard rubbed at her neck, disquieted.

“ _It seems the dour mage was thorough in his efforts._ ” Sothis’ voice reached both her and Edelgard now, and Byleth found herself strangely comforted by that knowledge. Neither woman replied openly to Sothis, and soon their party reached the church forces and the Black Eagles, who were patching each other up somberly. Their mood was dire - they had been fighting militia all day, and it wore heavily on each face. The remaining militia members had scattered to the winds after the horn sounded, likely fearing reprisal now that the fog was gone.

Byleth gathered her students, looking at each of them in turn. “I know a lot of hearts are heavy today. Fighting against soldiers, or bandits… That is much easier to justify to yourself than what you were all asked to do here. I know that words, especially right now, will not mean much, but I want to say them anyway: I am proud of all of you for keeping each other safe. The bonds of trust between comrades on a battlefield is unlike anything else in this world. Nurturing them is vital in the aftermath of something like this. So, take some time, grieve if you feel the need, and rest. I’ll let you know when it’s time for us to head out.”

Some of the church soldiers balked and reached for their weapons upon catching sight of Lonato, but Byleth waved a hand. “Lord Lonato has surrendered and will cooperate - as of now, he is a prisoner of war, and is to be treated as such. Do I make myself clear?” The soldiers looked at each other for a moment, before nodding. Then, one of them stepped forward. “Reporting! Lady Catherine has regained consciousness. She is in the tent just over there.” Byleth nodded, thanked him for the update, and led the odd foursome towards the tent.

Before entering, she stopped and turned to Lonato. “You don’t have to speak with her if you don’t want to, you know. Cassandra, I mean.” Lonato’s eyes burned at the mention of her name, but rather than cursing her, he simply sighed. “If I am to surrender to the church, then I will have to bear no shortage of hardships. Besides, I must speak with her to present the assassination note.” Byleth nodded. “I’ll go in first, make sure she’s conscious enough for visitors. Be back shortly.”

The atmosphere in the tent was, as expected, quite off. Hubert stood near the entrance, his arms folded. “Good work,” Byleth said to him as she entered. “It was a stroke of luck we had you here. Who knows how long that curse spell would have held her for without you.” Hubert nodded, accepting the false praise. “Go on and see to the others, alright? I’ll take over from here.”

Once they were alone, Byleth crossed over to where Catherine was. She looked like she’d wandered through truly dark places - eyes gaunt and distant, her normal healthy complexion replaced with a sallow, pale one. She was seated on a low cot, her head in her hands. For a moment, Byleth suddenly felt a deep guilt - had her plan _broken_ Catherine? Then, she looked up, looking Byleth in the eye.

“You alright? Hubert told me about that curse.” Byleth grabbed a chair, and sat down close to Catherine. Surprisingly, she began to laugh, a strained, hollow sound. “I had a hell of a trip. I… don’t know if I’m okay, to be honest.” Her voice was small, its commanding tone long gone. “Ah, wait… What happened with the battle? Your mage didn’t tell me anything besides that the fighting was over.” Byleth sighed.

“Well… I crossed blades with an uninvited guest, but managed to scare him off. Lonato surrendered.” Catherine’s head shot up at this news. “He… he’s alive?” Byleth nodded. “I brought him here - technically, since you’re in charge and you’re awake now, you have to take possession of the intelligence he mentioned to me. But… If you don’t think you can see him, I won’t tell anyone protocol wasn’t followed to the letter.”

Wearily, Catherine shook her head. “No. I… Send him in. I’m assuming this intelligence you mentioned is important?” Byleth hummed. “I’ll give you the short version before I get him. Lonato was spurred into rebelling by the bishops of the Western Church, who preyed on his desire for vengeance for his son’s death. He was given a sealed letter, and told to carry it on his person. He came here to die, more or less. There’s no way to tell for sure without reading it, but if I had to guess, I’m betting it’s an assassination plot.”

Catherine’s eyes regained some of their former fire at the mention of the word “assassination”, and she began trying to stand. “Whoa, easy there! We still need a healer to look you over. Stay put, or I’ll tell on you to Rhea.” Catherine shot her a look. “ _Lady_ Rhea.” Byleth hummed again, then stood and opened the tent flap. Ashe, Edelgard, and Lonato entered, cautious and quiet. When Lonato’s eyes met Catherine’s, Byleth was afraid for a moment that everything was about to fall apart. There was fury in Lonato’s eyes, but the longer he and Catherine looked at each other, the softer his gaze grew.

“Cassandra.” The way Lonato said her old name was charged with emotion. Anger, sadness… regret? “Nobody here by that name anymore. It’s Catherine now.” An uneasy silence settled over the tent. Then Lonato spoke up again. “You look like hell, girl.” Catherine laughed, a bit more force coming back to her voice. “What’s the idea with that, anyway? Throwing a curse at me like that one...” Right. Time to intervene.

“Actually… The mage who did this to you wasn’t apprehended. I assume they fled with our strange black knight. But it was not one of Lonato’s men, I’d bet my life on it.” Lonato nodded. “We passed the corpse of the only mage in this army’s employ earlier on the way here.” Catherine shook her head. “Wait. What do you mean 'black knight'? What happened?”

Byleth recounted the events of their parley, including the arrival of the mysterious knight in black armor. As she told the story of their fight, Catherine started to grow restless, fidgeting in place, and Byleth noticed her looking towards Thunderbrand several times. Finishing her story, Byleth looked over to Lonato. “Now then. If you’d hand over that note, we can finally put this mess behind us.”

\---

The journey back to Garreg Mach was subdued. They made good time, all things considered, but it was still going to be an overnight journey because of Catherine’s weakened state. The group stopped for the night and set up camp in a small forest clearing off the main road a bit before sunset, since there would be no cover in the mountain pass proper, and Catherine was adamantly opposed to camping in or near the Sealed Forest.

The full moon shone down on them, bathing the camp in pale, cold light. Her classmates, mentally and physically exhausted, had all fallen asleep almost immediately, but Edelgard found that sleep was eluding her. Her hand crept up to her neck, feeling at the place where the arrow had and hadn’t hit her. She had felt _death_ earlier that day, and been pulled out of it by some unknowable power… She had died, and yet, she was still here. Nausea began to build up in her. 

Standing quickly, she roused Hubert. He was concerned for her, as ever, but she couldn’t bring herself to tell him why. He _couldn’t_ understand, and all it would do would make her feel worse for burdening him even more than she already had. Instead, her thoughts turned to Byleth, and to the strange girl she only knew as The Voice. In an instant, she knew what she needed. “Hubert. Please prepare a space a little away from the camp where I can speak to the professor without being overheard. And then, take your leave.” He looked suspiciously at her, but the expression she bore left no room for argument. After a moment, he bowed, muttering “If you think it best, Lady Edelgard,” and went off into the trees. A short time later he returned, informing her of his success.

Edelgard slipped like a ghost through the camp, finding Byleth still awake beside the watch fire. It was on the church soldiers to keep watch, but evidently Byleth was having trouble sleeping as well. Placing a hand on her shoulder caused Byleth to jump - evidently she had been lost in thought while staring at the flames. “My teacher… I… Can we talk? In private?”

Her expression softened, and she nodded. The two of them went off towards the spot Hubert had picked out. Byleth hummed at the sight of sigils on the trees. “What is this, Edelgard?” She cast a critical eye at the sigil design. “It’s a variant on your Muffling spell. Hubert made it. Essentially, you create a space where you cannot be overheard from the outside just by standing within a group of these sigils.” Byleth clicked her tongue. “He’s quite smart. He and my brother both. I’ve never had a head for--” Her eyes opened wide, and she stared at Edelgard. Too late, she realized her eyes had widened in shock as well.

Edelgard felt that strange sensation from the battle once again, and her hand shot up to her non-existent wound. Byleth clicked her tongue. “He’s quite smart… Edelgard? What’s wrong?” Confusion welled up in her. “My… my teacher, why did you just repeat yourself? And what is this about a brother?” What little color was in Byleth’s cheeks drained from them.

“ _I told you I did not like that plan, little one._ ” The Voice appeared, looking between the two women with a strange expression on her face. “ _I wouldn’t have guessed she would continue to recall the past once it had been rewritten after I returned to you, though..._ ” Byleth’s shock mirrored her own. Edelgard’s body trembled, and she looked at The Voice as she spoke again. “You… you mean to tell me that in the battle today… I _did_ die?” Her voice was little more than a horrified whisper. Her hand began to scratch at the spot where she had been pierced by the arrow.

“What?!” Byleth’s shout took Edelgard by surprise - she had never heard her voice fill with fear like that. Her blue eyes searched Edelgard’s face for something, and on apparently finding it, they began to fill with tears. She practically threw herself onto Edelgard, latching onto her in an incredibly strong embrace. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so, so, _so_ sorry…” She began to tremble, and more apologies fell from her mouth. “It was never supposed to happen to anyone else… I’m _so_ sorry!” It was bizarre, and disquieting, and… comforting, in a strange way. She allowed herself to be embraced for a while longer, her shoulder growing damp and cold as Byleth’s tears soaked into her shirt. Finally, reluctantly, Byleth let her go, but kept hold of her hand.

“I… have a lot of explaining to do. I owe you that much.” She sighed, deeply. Some part of Edelgard wanted to stop her, to tell her it was fine, that she didn’t need to speak to something clearly painful like this. But… Her free hand was on her not-wound. She needed answers.

“This all started… a long time ago, actually. Although, I guess for you it wouldn’t be that long. A couple decades. I was... born wrong. A stillbirth. I was revived by use of very questionable magic, and as a result, I never laughed or cried. Not as an infant, not as a child, never at all until I came to Garreg Mach. Growing close to people my own age, loving them, being loved… My emotions woke up around then, at the same time as…” Her eyes moved to The Voice. “ _It is necessary now, little one. Tell her my name._ ” She took a long, shaking breath. “Please understand - I need to say all of this in one go. As soon as I say her name you’re going to have a thousand questions, but… Please let me finish, first.” Edelgard nodded, a growing sense of dread in her stomach.

“As I said, my emotions woke up at the same time she did… Sothis.” Edelgard gasped, her eyes whipping toward the young girl. How could she… No. She would ask later. She owed Byleth that. Refocusing her attention on Byleth, she squeezed her hands to let her know to continue. “She and I have been together, wandering through life, for a very long time. Her power has proved incredibly useful. She can control the flow of time, and move it back. That’s how I always seem to know what to do, to know what’s coming. It’s because nine times out of ten, it’s something I’ve already lived through.”

“Using it in battle is where it’s most crucial. To keep all of you safe, there is nothing I wouldn’t do. Every time one of you dies, or is maimed, or just hurt beyond what my heart can bear, I go back. I try to stop it. Most of the time I can… Sometimes, I can’t. But up until now, I have been the only one who remembers, the only one who has to deal with this. That’s why I got so upset, because… The first time _I_ died, it was maddening. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t eat. No mortal mind should be able to taste what death actually is, and return from it. Hearing that you… that you had experienced that pain for yourself… I broke.”

Fresh tears began falling in earnest. “I’m so sorry, Edelgard! This stupid plan of mine did something irrevocable to you, and I can’t go back and fix it. I can’t take the pain away. And now, even without Sothis, you can remember what happens when I make mistakes and go back… You’re going to learn what a failure I am.” She let go of Edelgard’s hand, crouching down and wrapping her arms around herself. “I just wanted… I just wanted to save everyone… To walk a path with everyone I love, together…”

“ _Hush now, little one. You should not say any more than that. Please, rest for a moment. I’ll answer her questions._ ” The Voice, who Edelgard was still unable to reconcile as being _Sothis_ , put a hand on Byleth’s shaking shoulders. Or, at least attempted to. Her hand passed through, and Edelgard noticed a great sadness on her small face.

The two looked each other in the eye for a while, Byleth’s sobs the only noise beyond the uncaring wildlife of a forest at night. Edelgard did have questions, quite a lot of them. But… the most pressing of all of them was easily… 

“Are you the goddess?”

Her voice was so small, it surprised her. Her heart froze in her chest as she awaited an answer.

Sothis smiled sadly at her. “ _In a way, yes. But, in another way, no. I_ am _her - memories from my past life, when I walked this land, flood my mind on occasion. But I don’t remember everything. I was asleep for a thousand years, maybe more… and when I woke up, I only knew my name. Everything I’ve learned about myself, pieced together, it tells me that I don’t_ want _to be the goddess. Because if I’m the goddess, then it’s my fault that people like you have been hurt so badly without any recourse._ ” She clasped her hands, no longer meeting Edelgard’s gaze.

Suddenly her head hurt. Flashes of scenes from her imprisonment swam before her eyes. The countless times she had cried out in the night, begging the goddess for aid, for rescue, for relief from the pain, for death… 

“ _All these people, praying to me, begging for my help, and here I was trapped in an unending sleep. They deserve a better goddess than I. But… Since none seem to be stepping forward, I will have to do_.”

Unbidden, words flew from Edelgard’s mouth: “So you don’t hate me? You didn’t abandon me to die?” She clapped her hands to her mouth, internally screaming at her lack of self-control.

Sothis’ eyes widened, and she looked at Edelgard sadly. “ _Edelgard..._ _What you suffered through was horrid. An abomination, perpetrated by those who ended my life, and the lives of my children. You did not deserve that suffering. I do not hate you, Edelgard. I could not hate someone so beloved by my other half._ ”

Edelgard's face felt vaguely warm, and she was dimly aware of Byleth calling up from the ground at Sothis, but for the moment, none of that mattered. She… did not deserve her suffering. Sothis, the goddess herself, said that she didn’t deserve it. The goddess didn’t hate her. The goddess didn’t hate her... Overwhelmed, Edelgard stepped back, and then all of a sudden the ground rushed up to meet her.

\---

To say Hubert had been upset with her for Edelgard’s fainting would be an understatement. Byleth had somehow convinced the dark mage to wait for Edelgard to wake back up before destroying her for harming his liege, and Edelgard had, of course, refused to allow it. She went to bed without another word, and Byleth took her place by the fire again, waiting for morning.

The group made excellent time, drawing close to Garreg Mach just as the sun reached its zenith overhead. Edelgard had steadfastly refused to meet her gaze, but Byleth had other things to worry about today, even as part of her desperately wanted to continue their conversation from the night before. The soldiers sent a rider ahead to inform the archbishop that Lonato had surrendered and was being taken to the monastery as a prisoner. As they moved through the marketplace and into the monastery proper, they were met by Rhea, Seteth, and a company of the Knights of Seiros standing arrayed on the steps of the entrance hall. Jeralt was at their head, and halted the group. The tension in the air was incredible.

Rhea spoke first, her usual ethereal tone replaced with a hardened edge. “Lonato. I admit, I had never expected to see you again. To say that I am displeased with you would hardly begin to suffice. You will stand trial for your crimes immediately following this, and we will lay this matter to rest once and for all. Students: you are dismissed. Return to your quarters. Professor…” Her speech paused, as if she was unsure of what to say to her. “You will join us for this judgment. Please accompany us.” She turned, her cope whipping around from the sudden movement, and strode out of the entrance hall. 

The tension in the air lessened dramatically, and Jeralt spoke up. “Alright, you heard her. Students, go on. Go unwind. Soldiers, drop off your gear and hit the barracks. Kid, Catherine. You’re with me.” Catherine and Lonato moved to join Jeralt, but Byleth hesitated. Turning backwards, she called out to Ashe. He looked tired, and confused. “Ashe… I know this has been an ordeal for you, but… Would you mind coming with us? If worst comes to worst, I want you to try to sway Rhea.” His eyes widened, but he did not respond immediately. Looking over at Lonato, he sighed. “Alright, professor. If you think I can help, I’ll go.”

They all made their way to Rhea’s audience chamber, and Byleth nodded at Seteth as they entered. He stiffened, likely recalling their deal, before returning the gesture. Rhea had her back to them as they entered, and she ordered the guards to leave the room before she turned around. She had a look on her face so eerily similar to the one she wore when Byleth had fought her on the Tailtean Plains during the war… It made Byleth inhale sharply, though she stood her ground. They weren’t standing before Rhea, gentle archbishop of the Church of Seiros, but rather Seiros, warrior-priestess, ready to pass divine judgment on her enemies.

Her voice was harsh when she finally addressed them. “The only punishment for standing in rebellion against the Holy Church of Seiros is death. The scene at the entrance hall was a courtesy, nothing more. You will die this day, Lonato, for _daring_ to raise your sword to the Goddess.”

This was not going how she had planned. Clearing her throat, Byleth spoke up. “Lady Rhea, if I may. Lord Lonato surrendered peacefully, disbanded his forces, and is willing to give us all the information he knows about his contacts in the Western Church, who, might I add, are now in open rebellion against you. Surely helping to prevent the Church from falling apart is worth a stay of execution?”

Rhea eyed her warily. Byleth was holding her ground, but she was nervous. If she pushed Rhea too far here, it could seriously jeopardize everything she’d been working on in this lifetime, and starting over might mean that the unique circumstances she’d found herself in would never repeat again. “Professor, your words are the words of a mercenary through and through. You would ignore sacred responsibility for material gains? How shameful. The Western Church will be dealt with, and its leaders dashed against the rocks for their heinous actions, but that will come later. I will not budge from this. And you would do _well_ to remember your place.”

The venom in her voice… Perhaps it had been a mistake to bring Lonato back here. Maybe she should have faked his death, sent him away into hiding? Her thoughts were interrupted, however, as Ashe brushed past her. “Lady Rhea! I… I know that I am not worthy to even speak to you, but… How can I stand by and watch as my father is denied the mercy I have heard preached every day by the Church? I can’t bear to watch this… I know that he is sincere about making up for his wrongdoing here. And he taught me that a true knight has to stand up for his convictions. So… So, if you’re going to kill him, then… You have to kill me too!” He moved in front of Lonato, and put his arms out.

“Ashe! W-what are you doing?” Lonato cried out, fear in his voice. “If I am to die for my sins, so be it, but you must live! I won’t allow you to throw your life away like this!” Ashe shook his head. “I’ve made up my mind. I’m not backing down from this. A knight of Faerghus doesn’t go back on his word.”

Silence filled the room, and all eyes were on Rhea. Her expression was unreadable, and her breathing had grown slow and shallow. 

Catherine stepped forward, supported by Jeralt. “Lady Rhea… I know this is highly improper, and I will accept any penance or punishment you order for it, but… I, too, think Lonato deserves to live. If anyone is at fault here, it’s me. He wouldn’t have been driven to this if it weren’t for me… So it’s only right that if anyone takes the punishment for it, it’s me. Please, Lady Rhea…” She hung her head, and knelt.

A look of surprise broke past Rhea’s stoic mask. “You, too, child? You, my most trusted supporter?” Her words were intended to wound, and Byleth seethed with anger. She didn’t even like Catherine, but no one deserved that. She was about to open her mouth when Seteth shot her a severe look, and motioned for her to wait. Rhea was silent for several minutes, and the tension in the room was palpable. Then, finally, Rhea sighed, and shook her head.

“Lonato. The punishment for your crimes should be a swift death… But, after all this, I cannot find it in my heart to give that order. Knowing what would be lost along with you is too much. So therefore, I hand down this sentence: you will be imprisoned for one moon here at the monastery, and will during that time fully cooperate with the Knights of Seiros in their investigation into the Western Church. You will not be allowed to participate in the festival for the Rite of Rebirth, but I will allow you to receive a benediction from the ceremony. After that time, you will be released to your territory, whereupon you and your forces will assist the Knights in their quest to purge the Western Church of its heretical leadership. Thereafter, your territory will pay fines in compensation for your actions, until the day of your death. Should you _ever_ betray the Holy Church of Seiros again… Should you step even a single toe out of line… I will kill you myself, and raze Gaspard to the ground. Am I understood?”

Lonato bowed his head. “It is more than I deserve, Lady Rhea. I understand and accept your judgment.” Ashe let out a shuddering sigh, and fell backwards in his relief. Lonato caught him in an embrace, and Byleth looked away, not wanting to intrude on their moment.

Rhea turned away from them again, seeming to shrink a little. “Now, everyone, leave me to my thoughts. Captain, escort Lonato to the dungeons. Catherine… I will visit you in the infirmary later.” Everyone cleared out rather quickly, and soon Byleth, Seteth, and Ashe were left standing in the hallway outside of the audience chamber. Ashe exhaled deeply, rolling his neck.

“For a moment there, I really thought I was going to die… The archbishop can be pretty intense, huh, Professor?” His green eyes looked up into her blue ones, and a smile crept onto his face. “I’m really glad you asked me to come along, though. If I hadn’t… Well, either way. Thank you, for all of this.” He scuffed the ground with his boot.

Byleth put a hand on his shoulder. “If you’re thinking what I’m guessing, you don’t owe me anything. There was never a price for this. Just make sure you keep Lonato on the right path, alright?” Ashe nodded, wordless gratitude in his gaze. Then, he yawned deeply. “Oh, my. Sorry, Professor, I really should go. I’m exhausted…” She hummed, and bid him farewell. Turning to Seteth, she cracked a grin.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a frustrated huff. “ _Please_ refrain from disobeying orders and challenging Lady Rhea’s authority directly for a while. I don’t know if my heart can take much more of that.” Byleth laughed softly. “I make no promises. But, if it’s any consolation, events in this next month are going to make Rhea very happy.” He looked at her questioningly, then shook his head. “It is… probably best that I don’t ask. Just, for the love of the Goddess, be _careful_. You are family, and I don’t want to see what little family I have left at each other's throats.” With assurances that she would be careful, Byleth took her leave. Exhaustion was clawing at her, and she trudged back towards her quarters, ready for a well-deserved nap.

Opening her door, she was surprised to find Edelgard waiting for her, and a pot of Hresvelg blend lending the air an intense, refined smell. “My teacher. We need to talk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My greatest rhetorical flaw is not, in fact, getting hung up on how nice certain words sound in my head and using them a lot in a chapter - it's ending chapters on "we need to talk".
> 
> Things are about to diverge very strongly from canon in the next couple chapters, so hold onto your hats, folks.
> 
> (Cope: a liturgical vestment worn by Roman Catholic and some Anglican clergy at non-eucharistic functions. A full-length cloak formed from a semicircular piece of cloth, it is open at the front and is fastened at the breast by hooks or a brooch.)
> 
> Edited 01/02/21 for consistency and quality.


	16. Unexpected Turns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth and Edelgard come clean to each other, Byleth's group of confidants meets again, and Jeralt receives disquieting news.

“You know, I haven’t given you a key.” Byleth watched as her little jab put Edelgard off balance, and laughed softly. Edelgard reached into her pockets, and pulled out Byleth’s room key with a satisfied smirk. “Ah! You little sneak! When did you grab that?” Setting the key on the table, it was Edelgard’s turn to laugh. “You were quite focused on the way into the monastery, and I…” Her face fell, and Byleth swallowed. “I wanted to make sure we could continue our conversation. There are things that… Well, it’s… What I want is for there to be no more secrets between us.”

Byleth sucked in air over her teeth. She already _knew_ all of Edelgard’s secrets, but telling her that would mean admitting more of her abilities, and likely would lose Edelgard’s trust. But then, what she was asking for… Byleth couldn’t just tell her everything, could she? Or... Actually, _could_ she? Would it truly be that bad? She sighed, and began casting Muffling, even including the ceiling this time, since she knew Sylvain’s room was above her own.

“Edelgard. Before we start… I’m sure you’ve been thinking about some of the, ah… Inconsistencies, let’s say, in what I said before.” She poured the both of them tea, and began to sip absentmindedly, only vaguely aware of the scalding heat on her lips. Edelgard nodded. “It was hardly the place or time to ask, but, yes. Also, I admit to being more than a bit preoccupied, as well.” Right… In their life after the war, in one lifetime that Byleth let play out for longer than she should have, Byleth had told Edelgard the truth about Sothis. Watching her then mirrored the reaction Edelgard had shown the previous night. A deep sadness overtook her - this is why she didn’t think about the happy endings she’d lived through.

She took another sip of tea. It had an incredible aroma and body to it - clearly a high-end blend. She felt guilty - Edelgard was hardly hurting financially, but this was expensive, and likely chosen because Edelgard didn’t know her preferences. “While we’re telling secrets, my favorite tea is a jasmine blend, although in all my years I’ve come to greatly appreciate a nice bergamot, too. So… Don’t burn your money on this fancy stuff again, alright?”

Edelgard looked stunned for a moment, before bursting out laughing. When she finally calmed herself, she looked over at Byleth. “Oh, Professor. I honestly have more of this than I know what to do with. It’s no trouble at all - do you have _any_ idea how many nobles’ letters include a sachet of Hresvelg blend when they’re trying to curry favor with me? However… I’ll keep that in mind for the next time I break into your room.”

Fixing her with a serious look, Edelgard continued. “But Professor, statements like that are what I’m talking about. When you say things like ‘in all my years’ despite looking hardly a day older than I am... If… if you mean what I think you mean…” She rubbed her hands together in her lap. “I… I don’t want you to say the words yet. There are things that I came here to tell you, and I want to tell them to you for _my_ first time, even if it isn’t your first time to hear them. And if somehow I’m wrong, we can have a laugh about it afterwards, provided you still want to associate with me at all…”

She shifted uncomfortably. Byleth reached over to her, and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Take your time. I’ve had to do a lot of awkward, unintended confessions that I wasn’t ready for over the past couple months. Just breathe, and… talk like you would normally. Don’t worry about anything else.” Edelgard nodded, still looking away. They stayed there in silence for a few minutes, before Edelgard at last found her voice.

“I have been harboring a secret. Though not much has come of it yet, I… I am the one called the Flame Emperor. I hired Kostas’ band to attack the three of us in the forest outside Remire, and scare away the new professor... And, er… Look, it was not a name of my choosing, you understand, but then, nothing in my life has been by my choice until now... In any event, my purpose here at Garreg Mach is to destabilize the Church of Seiros from within, obtain resources and artifacts long kept hidden here, and eventually… Eventually launch a war to destroy the church and reunify Fodlan under the Adrestian banner.”

She stood, turning away from Byleth. “And yet… as I said, not a single decision in my life until this moment has truly been _my_ decision. I was set on this path years ago, and until I met you, and met Sothis… I believed that my fated path had to be walked alone, awash in darkness and blood. But now… I am conflicted, and in turmoil over it. I…”

She turned at last to face Byleth, eyes shining with determination and the beginning of tears, though none left her yet. “Do you recall the torture I experienced as a child? How my siblings were experimented upon and died? How I was made into a monster? Before, I told you that it was the doing of the Six Great Noble Families of the Empire, but this is only half true. They all were used by a group that stands in the shadows, the same group whose hand was behind Lonato’s rebellion. When we fought that knight, we fought one of their number, though I had never seen that particular one before.”

She was on a roll now, speaking more feverishly. “They have… Goddess, you’re going to think that I’ve gone insane… They have taken important people from within all the nations of Fodlan, replacing them with twisted mockeries wearing human skin. Even my own uncle… He is no longer there, replaced by one known as Thales. It was by Thales’ order that my siblings and I were violated, and it was Thales who gave me the name of Flame Emperor. It’s because of him that I am cursed… For you see, Professor, I am a true monster, an unholy abomination against nature and the goddess. I possess within me a minor Crest of Seiros, in keeping with my ancestors… And…" She reached out a hand, preparing to manifest her second, secret crest. "And thi--”

Byleth stood, and wrapped her hands around Edelgard’s outstretched one. “You are not a monster. Or an abomination. And… Don’t show it to me. I know it hurts to manifest it.” Confusion flooded Edelgard’s face, followed by a spark of understanding. “You mean… You too?”

Byleth hummed. “Yes and no. I never went through what you did. I was born with it… the Crest of Flames. You recall when I said I was revived by the use of magic? That magic included the implantation of the crest stone of the Crest of Flames into my heart.” Edelgard gasped. “Oh, actually, before I forget. I don’t have a heartbeat because of the crest stone there. So if, in the future, I ever take any serious blows, don’t check for a heartbeat, check for a pulse. Trust me.”

“But… for there to be _two_ who bear that crest…” Edelgard looked down, lost in thought.

Byleth sighed. “I imagine that learning that messes up quite a lot of their plans, right? Those Who Slither in the Dark.” She watched as pure fear took over Edelgard’s features, and she stared up at Byleth. “How do you… Why do you know that name?” Byleth shook her head, and dragged Edelgard back to the table. “Sit. Drink some tea. It’ll help calm you down. It’s my turn to talk anyway.”

She rubbed the back of her head, musing. “Well, you already know that I carry Sothis within me. It’s because of the crest stone. I don’t know how much they’ve told you about the crest stones and Heroes’ Relics, but… Crest stones are the hearts of the children of the goddess, torn from their bodies by Nemesis at the dawn of the War of Heroes. The Relics themselves are made from their bones, ligaments, and tendons. They’re… horrifying weapons. Every one I’ve ever touched has screamed out at me in sadness, because it can feel Sothis within me.”

She began pacing slowly, thinking of how to put this without putting Edelgard off completely. “Nemesis, as you may or may not know, was given his power by Those Who Slither. They _hate_ Sothis, and by extension all of her children, because they lost a war that they launched against Sothis in arrogance and hubris. For all the posturing I’m sure they used when telling you their version of history, it was all fueled by jealous people full of anger at a goddess who they thought they didn’t need any longer. That’s the grand legacy of Those Who Slither - the kingdom of Agartha, reduced to hiding underground because for all their arrogant power, they couldn’t stand against Sothis.”

She stopped, and turned to Edelgard. The look on her face was pensive - Byleth could work with pensive. “Now… for _how_ I know what I know. I know because I’ve relived the same six years, 1180 to 1186, nearly eight hundred times. Sothis’ power isn’t just limited to going back a few moments on the battlefield. She can turn back time to the moment of her awakening within me, on the night when you and I first met. I’ve… I’ve been trying to find the right combination of choices and actions that leads to everyone I love making it safely through these years, in particular through the war that Those Who Slither want you to start. It’s given me the chance to learn a lot from a lot of different people. I know almost every secret at this monastery, or… Well, normally I would. This lifetime has been giving me a lot of new experiences.”

Edelgard looked shocked, and Byleth knew she was trying to consider the implications of what she’d just heard. She held up three fingers. “The main differences this time, as compared to what I’m used to, are these. One: I now, suddenly, have a twin brother. Bereth. I still don’t know what to make of him, and that’s not even _touching_ the fact that he looks how I look when I try to find my path as a man. I can introduce you later, and… Actually, I’ll definitely need to do that. I’m amassing quite the group of committed people, and you should get to know them and work with them... Anyway. Two: That mysterious knight has never once revealed himself. I’ve never seen him before, even when I’ve stormed the last city of Those Who Slither and put them all to the sword. He’s a completely new variable, and I don’t like those. And, three… In all my many lifetimes, you’ve never trusted me enough before the war to tell me all of this. That, I think, has the chance to be the most impactful thing about this life. Maybe, with your help… Maybe I can finally accomplish my goal, and find peace.”

Silence filled the room. Outside, they could hear students milling around, enjoying their lives as normal people. Birds were chirping. A breeze shook the trees nearby.

Finally, Edelgard looked at her. “So… You knew all of it? You knew that I would cause a war, and yet you still chose to lead me, to teach me, to… embrace me. Why?” Ah. That was a question she had hoped to avoid. “Well… There’s a few reasons, maybe three main ones. I think that, if Those Who Slither can be eliminated as a threat, your path has the greatest potential for peace, even with your radical reforms. Rhea’s path is too secretive, Claude’s and Dimitri’s too bloody. But, aside from that… I trust you. I know that you are not a monster, despite what you may think about yourself. You’re just… Edelgard. And Edelgard is someone I care about very deeply.”

Edelgard smiled, but for a long time said nothing. The two of them soaked in the silence once more. Then, at last, the silence was broken again. “That was only two, my teacher.”

Byleth flushed. “Well… Maybe I’ll tell you the last one some other time. But, for now, we have business to attend to. I think I can get everyone together tomorrow afternoon… If I invite you to a meeting of my group, will you come?”

Edelgard stared at her. “If I accept, it may mean my death. You know that, right? They have agents even here.” Byleth nodded. “I will protect you at any cost. I’ve said it before, but I’ll say it as many times as I have to. But, if it makes you feel any better… Bring Hubert. Feel free to get him up to speed, as well.” Crossing over to her, Byleth wrapped Edelgard in another embrace. “And… thank you for trusting me.”

\---

Byleth ended class for the day, and motioned for Edelgard to follow. Her heart started to race. This was it. If she could trust Byleth, surely she could trust Byleth’s group of “committed people”... Though it did nothing for the growing dread she felt. Hubert stood, and fell in behind the two of them. They picked their way up to Jeralt’s office, which already had a number of people in it. To her shock, Claude and Hilda were seated on the two couches, and a purple-haired boy she’d never met before was slouched in the corner of the room, putting up an aloof front. They’d obviously been making pleasant conversation before she barged in, and Edelgard felt her mouth open and close several times before any noise came out.

“What are _you_ doing here?!” Her voice was more indignant than she meant it to be, but she wanted answers. Claude cracked a smile. “Well, pleasure to see you too, Princess. Byleth said she had a big get, but I’ve gotta admit, this is a bit bigger than I’d expected. Come on, I saved you a seat!” He patted the couch next to him - the space was more than enough for her and Hubert to sit side-by-side, but as Edelgard glanced at her retainer, he said softly “I would prefer to stand.” So, Edelgard found herself sitting next to Claude, who could barely contain his glee at her discomfort. 

“Ah, that’s right. We’ve gotta make introductions! Princess, this is Hilda Valentine Goneril. She’s my right hand gal. And this fine fellow is--” “Yuri. I’m from Abyss.” The one called Yuri didn’t look the least bit interested in Claude’s antics, but still had the nerve to give _her_ an appraising eye. “Truthfully, I barely even know why I’m here.”

Byleth sighed from somewhere off to her left. She was leaning against the wall with… Dean Bereth? Edelgard hadn’t even noticed him before. She spoke quietly, with a hint of chastisement in her voice. “Claude… Please tell me you at least gave Yuri my message?” Claude positively glowed from the energy in the room, and he laughed. “Course I did, Teach. What do you take me for?” Yuri turned his eyes toward Byleth, but he didn’t dare openly stare at her with Jeralt in the room. “You realize this is going to cost a bit more than one lousy bandit, right?”

Byleth nodded. “I can’t do anything until the end of the moon at least, but I’ll get Rhea to make some concessions towards Abyss. You have my word.” Seemingly satisfied, Yuri slunk back into the corner. Claude turned to Edelgard once more. “So… I didn’t expect to see you. Don’t you have some nefarious business to be getting up to? Feathered armor to polish?” Her blood ran cold - had Byleth… betrayed her? Claude’s smile was gone, and he was obviously not kidding around any longer. He knew her identity.

“Claude.” Byleth’s voice carried a dangerous tone. “Explain how you know that to her, right now. She knows enough to understand what you’re going to say.” Claude put his hands up in mock surrender. “Alright Teach, if you think that’s best… Well, Madam Emperor… Or, do you go by Lady Flame? Never got the chance to ask this when an axe wasn’t coming for my head, you see. Anyway, I’m not from this timeline. Somehow, I got transported back from _my_ time, which saw the Golden Deer rally all of Fodlan and defeat you in the war you’re going to cause in a few months. So, I know who you are, and who you work for. What I _don’t_ know is why you’re here.”

Turning to Byleth, he asked quite forcefully, “Why _is_ she here? It’s one thing to work with her to stop her, but inviting her to the special club? That seems weird, Teach.” Byleth flashed him a smile - one of those heartwarming smiles that, until just now, Edelgard had only seen directed at her. A pang of jealousy flared up in her chest. “Well, you’ll just have to wait for our last two to join us, won’t you? I know you’re bad at patience, but try to bear with it.”

Jeralt groaned from his desk, obviously unhappy at the thought of having more people in his office. Just then, there was a knock at the door. She hadn’t noticed when they had arrived, but it was in a specific, staccato pattern. Byleth opened the door, and in walked Seteth and Flayn. They must have seen how wide her eyes had grown, as Flayn cheerfully tried to greet her. Two children of the goddess, standing before her. How much did _they_ know? What was Byleth up to?

Seteth and Flayn settled onto the opposite couch, and Flayn began animatedly talking to Hilda. The pink-haired girl was making a valiant effort to not look put-upon, but Flayn was incessant. Edelgard felt a headache brewing. Seteth looked tired, and more than a little suspicious about his present company.

Just then, another knock rang out, this time accompanied by a strong voice. “Captain? Lady Rhea wants to speak with us. It’s urgent.” The room went silent. Catherine was on the other side of the door. After a tense moment, Jeralt sighed behind her. “Well… Sorry everyone. Be, I want you to fill me in later, alright?” Be? Who was that? In answer to her unvoiced question, Dean Bereth nodded emphatically, and Jeralt stomped over to the door and slipped out. Edelgard appraised Bereth briefly - they looked similar enough, though Byleth was obviously more beau-- No, no. Self-control. She was in information gathering mode.

Once Jeralt left the room, all eyes were on Byleth. She cleared her throat, then began to speak. “Well, welcome, everyone. We’ve got more new faces than old here today, which is both encouraging and also a sign that we need to maintain vigilance. Nothing that is said in this room is _supposed_ ” - she glared at Claude - “to leave it. I need to swear you all to secrecy, and some of you doubly so.” They all swore, even Hubert, which surprised Edelgard. Ever since she’d told him that Byleth could help them fight against Those Who Slither in the Dark, he had been like a man possessed. 

“Now then… Let’s get everyone on the same page. We have a lot of ground to cover, so I’m going to do introductions first. First of all, this is Bereth. For those who don’t officially know, he is my twin brother. He was raised here at Garreg Mach, and I only met him earlier this year. It’s thanks to his magical insights that we’re able to talk without fear of being overheard. At the end of this meeting, I’ll be distributing copies of the Muffling spell to everyone who doesn’t already know it. If you ever have to speak to someone in this group about group business outside of our meetings, _use this spell first_. If I find out you didn’t I will be very, very upset. Next…” She sighed.

“This, who you may or may not be able to see or hear, is Sothis.” Sothis winked into view even as a cacophony of gasping erupted in the cramped little office. Even Yuri was caught off-guard by that admission, and he seemed like quite the unflappable person to her. Sothis turned towards Flayn, who was beaming at her, and Edelgard, who smiled nervously, then said. “ _Hello, to those of you who can hear me. Please let that only be five people._ ” Byleth relayed her message to Claude, Hilda, Yuri, and Hubert, who aside from Claude looked extremely skeptical. 

“She is _that_ Sothis, if that’s what you’re wondering, though she’s… It’s complicated. She is the goddess of Fodlan, but part of what’s brought this group together is her connection to me. We’re bound together by fate. I don’t have the time to _prove_ she exists and is speaking every time we meet, but myself, Bereth, Flayn, and Edelgard can see her.” Flayn and Seteth looked at her in shock. “The four of us and Seteth can all hear her voice.”

“Next… It’s time to explain who I am, although this is mainly for Yuri’s benefit, since I assume Claude and Edelgard have already told their guests enough to go on?” They both nodded. Byleth went around and settled in Jeralt’s chair, leaned back, and launched into her story. She was a time traveler, using Sothis’ power to try to find a way to navigate through this period of Fodlan’s history in such a way that would keep everyone she cared about alive, whole, and if possible even happy. She recounted epic battles that had never happened, tales and anecdotes about everyone in the room’s future selves, and finally turned to describing their enemy. Those Who Slither in the Dark… As expected, Flayn and Seteth looked horrified at the mention of their ancient enemy, but Byleth deftly steered away from a history lesson that would have given them away. She named those who she knew to be in disguise: Volkhard von Arundel of the Empire, Cornelia Arnim of the Kingdom, and Tomas, the head librarian at Garreg Mach. Seteth jumped to his feet at this revelation, but Byleth waved for him to sit back down.

“I didn’t say all of this so that you could go and indiscriminately kill any of them you please. They’re very wary, and have their hands in every major organization in Fodlan. Doing something obvious like that would make them go to ground, and all the intelligence I’ve gathered would be worth nothing. You need to be patient, Seteth. All of you need to be patient, and do _not_ , under any circumstances, let yourselves act suspiciously around Tomas. He needs to be completely unaware anything is wrong before we strike.”

She explained their aims, again speaking obliquely to avoid Seteth and Flayn’s true identities, then spoke of their experiments. Pausing, she turned again to Seteth. “I don’t want you to smother her, but Flayn needs to be protected during the Verdant Rain and Horsebow Moons if Tomas is still alive. If everything goes according to his plan, Tomas will attempt to kidnap her for a blood experiment, and implant an agent into the monastery disguised as a student. That needs to be avoided at all costs.”

Byleth looked around the room once more. While everyone was still looking at her, Edelgard could tell their attention was beginning to flag. Byleth finally met her eye again, and smiled. “That covers the orientation. Now for business. I’d like for us to be able to meet at least once every moon, preferably early on after I receive my monthly briefing from Rhea. We can bring up new information, and plan our next moves together. Is that alright?” Everyone in the room agreed.

“Three more items to cover, and then we’re done. First - something happened while I was on a mission in Gaspard territory that has never happened before. I encountered a new member of Those Who Slither, a knight in black armor, carrying a strange sword.” She described the armor and sword, then detailed their fight, and how she and Edelgard had forced the knight to back off. She beamed with pride as she described Edelgard cutting off that pale arm, though she was fairly certain it was a lot less glamorous than Byleth was making it seem. Finishing her story, she looked around again. “Thoughts?”

Claude spoke up. “Well, I’ve got nothing on the knight, but that sword sounds like a khopesh. They’re real old traditional weapons back, er, east, in Almyra and beyond into the desert. Which, I don’t know about you, but that makes my nose twitch.” Byleth hummed. “I see. Thank you Claude, that’s valuable insight. And concerning, as well - if something about this world got changed to include Those Who Slither extending into Almyra… Dig up what you can on it, safely.” Claude nodded, and Edelgard felt lost. Why was that Claude’s job? Surely she would have a better angle at it. She started to object when she felt Sothis’ eyes on her. Looking over, the goddess shook her head. “ _Claude is more suited to this task, Edelgard. We cannot jeopardize your position_.” Seteth and Flayn looked at her with suspicion, but Edelgard simply nodded.

Byleth, however, looked at Yuri. “Yuri. I want you to put out feelers. Find out anything you can about this knight. Locations, people in contact, hell, even just a name.” He nodded, likely already beginning to plan.

“Next, we need to briefly discuss the “assassination plot”. It’s not a real assassination plot, first of all, so you can quit fretting like a mother hen, Seteth. It’s a distraction from the Western Church’s real objective. While all the extra security is on Rhea and the Goddess Tower, the Western Church plans to sneak troops into the Holy Mausoleum on the day of the Rite of Rebirth, and steal the contents of the casket of Saint Seiros. My house needs to be on flexible enough duties to be able to marshal at the Holy Mausoleum and counterattack. Claude, I’d like for you to find your way over as well. Seteth - this is what I was talking about that will make Rhea very happy. You’ll see what I mean after the Rite is over. Just in case something goes wrong, I need you and Flayn to be willing to cut the ceremony in the Goddess Tower short to come down to the Holy Mausoleum. Sothis will let you know if that becomes necessary. I don't expect it to, but better safe than sorry.” Seteth looked pale at all this unexpected information, but he nodded slowly after thinking it over. Edelgard briefly thought about how the Death Knight was on loan to the Western Church at Thales’ insistence, but if Byleth knew all this… Surely Jeritza wouldn’t be a problem she hadn’t foreseen. 

Standing from the desk, Byleth moved around behind the couch Edelgard and Claude were seated on, coming to stand next to Hubert. “One final thing - most of our information on Those Who Slither has come from my own experiences, but in the future, part of it is going to be coming from Edelgard and Hubert, who have agreed to be moles inside their operations. I would ask that none of you impede their actions any more than you normally would. I’m not telling you to act _suspiciously_ blind around them, but don’t do anything to jeopardize their mission.” 

Seteth finally spoke. “How is it that they came to be involved with our enemy in the first place? Is this truly wise, Byleth?”

Turning to her, Byleth gave Edelgard a small smile. “It’s up to you how much to say.” Edelgard nodded, a cold sweat beginning to form. How much could she truly say? These people were willing to work with Byleth, but what if she, by her words, ruined everything? Her hand crept up to her neck. Then, a soft, warm hand was laid over hers. Byleth. What a wonderful person. She swallowed hard, and took several deep breaths.

“I… This is difficult for me to do. I have always operated in secrecy, and being open with allies is something foreign to me. I… As a child, I was a victim of blood experiments by Those Who Slither. They made me into a mon--” Byleth’s hand squeezed hers. “Into… a powerful tool for their use, and filled my head with their version of history, their beliefs… When I came to Garreg Mach, I came as the Flame Emperor, a tool for them, ready to destabilize the Church and launch a war. But, meeting Byleth and Sothis has changed me. I… I have learned the truth of what I was told, and my childish, powerless resentment of them has burned clean. I will do anything and everything in my power to stop them, even if I must play the role of double agent for a time. I will no longer be a tool for them, or for anyone else.” Byleth hummed proudly behind her, and Edelgard felt herself flushing deeply.

Hubert spoke next, his voice low and quiet. “For myself… I am pledged to Lady Edelgard’s service. My life is, and always has been, hers. For many long years, I have burned with fury as Thales and his _ilk_ did despicable things to her, and forced Lady Edelgard into their service. Now, I am given a chance to purge them. I would not miss it for the world.”

Byleth nodded. “Is that enough for you, Seteth?” Seteth stared into Edelgard’s eyes for a time, then sighed. “It is. I have seen the truth of their words for myself. Though it is an… unusual partnership, I welcome the chance to be rid of these fiends once and for all.”

\---

Jeralt wasn’t in a great mood to begin with as the second day of the Blue Sea Moon dragged on. Rhea was still angry over Byleth’s decision to rescue Lonato, and her displeasure made his job a pain. And that was all before Byleth decided to convene another secret meeting in his damn office.

He looked out at everyone in the room. There were some new, unexpected faces - Seteth and Flayn sat on one couch, and beside Flayn was a bubbly girl with pink hair. Claude was on the other couch, his smug grin plastered onto a face that Jeralt still wanted to rearrange if only Byleth would let him. And next to _him_ sat Edelgard, the Imperial princess herself, with the real sour-looking mage she kept around looming behind her. He recalled seeing the mage going in and out of Bereth’s office a few times, as well. Standing against the wall to his left were Byleth and Bereth, both oozing nervous energy. Byleth had been busy, so that was only natural, but Bereth was always a pile of nerves around him. He sighed. A few months is probably too little time to bond, but he was trying. It just never got anywhere with this kid. And then, leaning smugly in the far corner was some kid with purple hair and a dark look. He’d seen him skulking around the monastery a few times, but Jeralt knew on sight he wasn’t a student. No student, with the possible exception of the two royals in the room, carried themselves like that.

Resisting the urge to grab for his flask, he nodded at Byleth. He was ready for whatever insanity was about to happen. What he wasn’t ready for was a knock on his door. “Captain? Lady Rhea wants to speak with us. It’s urgent.” Catherine? What was she doing out of bed? It had only been a day since they got back from Gaspard territory... He sighed, and shot Byleth an apologetic look. “Well… Sorry everyone. Be, I want you to fill me in later, alright?” Bereth jumped like he’d been shocked, then nodded. He stomped over to the door, opened it just wide enough to get out, and slipped through. It wasn’t enough to deter Catherine, though.

“Secret meeting, Captain?” She looked a little smug, having caught him in the act. He grunted noncommittally - none of Byleth’s secrets were going to leak because of him. “Why the hell are you standing right now? Manuela had you on bed rest.” Catherine shook her head. “Lady Rhea came and healed me herself. I don’t know what she did, but I feel fantastic. Like I could… I dunno, beat a horse in a footrace, or punch a hole in the outer walls.” Jeralt stopped dead in his tracks.

“Catherine. Did she give you blood?” He looked her over. She looked fairly hale - the color was back in her face, and she was walking tall again. In the lighting of this hallway, her hair seemed a little lighter on top than normal, but otherwise she looked fine. “I don’t know… Although… Manuela said Lady Rhea sent her out of the room while she was treating me, so it’s possible, I guess. I was unconscious for it, though. Why?”

Jeralt sighed. “A long time ago, I got badly hurt, and Rhea tended to me herself. She gave me some of her blood, said it was for a powerful healing magic ritual… I felt exactly like you described not even a _day_ after almost dying. Just… Keep me updated on how you’re feeling, alright? I won’t make it an order, but… I’d appreciate it.”

Catherine stared at him for a moment, then nodded. “If that really is what she did, I’m honored beyond belief… But having someone who’s gone through it to talk to would probably be helpful. But, how long ago could that even have been? Take away the scars and you don’t look a day over forty, Captain.” Jeralt paused in front of the audience chamber, thinking.

“Well… I joined the Knights right after it happened, so that was around… 1065, I guess. Back when the Southern Church got exiled. You can do the math.” Despite Catherine sputtering at that revelation, Jeralt pressed on, and the two of them entered the audience chamber. 

Rhea turned to the two of them with a grave look on her face. “We have a… delicate situation. On top of the recent plot that has been uncovered against my life, the court mage of Faerghus, one Cornelia Arnim, has just arrived at Garreg Mach unannounced. She claims to be looking for her missing daughter.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this setting, I imagine that Jeralt was probably 19 when he came across Rhea and took the blow for her that changed his life. That would make Jeralt 134 years old at the time of White Clouds, born in Faerghus in Imperial year 1046. I've always wondered if he was a noble, given that he has a middle name like all Faerghus nobles, but that doesn't really seem to square with anything else in the game. I've read other fanfiction that posits that there used to be a minor house of Eisners that carried the Crest of Macuil (just to actually place it somewhere in the world, I guess), and while I like that idea, Faerghus ain't about seeing Crest bloodlines die out for no reason... I wonder what that means for Jeralt?
> 
> Next time, *intrigue* awaits!
> 
> Edited 01/02/21 for consistency and quality.


	17. The Long Road Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claude does some scheming, Byleth finds an unexpectedly fun sparring partner, and two groups of students are about to be mobilized.

Claude left the meeting with his head full of… everything, really. He didn’t really trust himself to talk to Hilda yet without venting at her, and gods knew she didn’t deserve that fate. She had been so _trusting_ as he confided in her early in the year, after finding himself back in his stupid teenage body and his stupid teenage dorm room… It reminded him of the Hilda he’d left behind. Was she worried for him? The two had become close at Garreg Mach, but their experiences during the war made them so much moreso. Finding himself here again, fending off the younger Hilda’s joking-but-not-joking advances… It was a lot to take in. Hilda was the closest he had to family in his life, what with his mother and father… No. He couldn’t mope about this. No moping when there was work to be done. He tried to pick through the library, looking for some scrap of new information he’d missed in his past life, but it was no use. He couldn’t focus, and the presence of Tomas rankled him more than he cared to admit.

He wandered aimlessly down the second-floor corridor, when he heard the sound of Catherine’s powerful voice in what he realized, with a small smirk, was her attempt to speak in hushed tones. “--ssor, I’m glad I caught you. We’ve got a missing persons situation. Cornelia Arnim, the court mage of Faerghus, just showed up out of the blue at the monastery gates. Her daughter’s missing and she’s requesting our help. I need you to mobilize your students to search the grounds.” Well, shit. That took the wind out of his sails. Cornelia, according to Byleth, was one of Those Who Slither, but Claude didn’t recall ever running into a female member of that group outside of the battle underground… Unless she’d shed her disguise and returned to Shambhala after Edelgard’s death. That she was here looking for someone at the monastery was _not_ good, whatever her reasoning.

He realized he’d been lost in his thoughts when he at last heard Catherine stomping away, the sound of her armored footsteps fading into the distance. Byleth was starting to walk away as well when Claude flagged her down. “Office again?”, he asked, nodding his head at Jeralt’s door. She nodded back, and the two of them slipped inside, unnoticed by Jeralt, who was deep in thought and clutching at a small journal. She cleared her throat, causing Jeralt to jump. “For the love of the fucking goddess, don’t do that, By!” He saw a small smile playing at her lips, and for a moment he almost lost himself in thinking about how when _her_ lips had been _his_ lips, before Jeralt growled. “Sorry… Just on edge. Bereth hasn’t had a chance to brief me, yet, but, what’s going on?”

Pushing from his mind a quip about how the “fucking goddess” was probably giggling at the knight-captain’s jumpiness right about now, Claude spoke up. “Cornelia’s one of the ones we’re fighting.” Jeralt looked at him studiously, and it struck him in that moment how all the Eisners he’d ever known had piercing gazes. He sighed, rubbed the back of his neck, and motioned for them to sit. “What do we know about her?”

Byleth shifted uncomfortably. “Well… the _actual_ Cornelia was a crest researcher in the Empire, and a colleague of Hanneman's. I _think_ she used to belong to House Hyrm, but she and Hanneman renounced their peerage around the same time in 1164, which is around when she got the surname Arnim. Instead of going with Hanneman to Garreg Mach, she accepted an invitation from King Lambert to come to Fhirdiad to attempt to cure a terrible plague that swept through the city and outlying areas. As for the fake one, she had to have taken Cornelia’s place at some point between when Cornelia cured the plague in 1165 and the Tragedy of Duscur in 1176. That’s the upper bound because the fake Cornelia is the one who engineered it. She managed to sleep her way to favor with Dimitri’s uncle, the Regent, before the Tragedy, and in terms of future plans... Once Dimitri is out of the way she usually takes control of Faerghus. She also… In most of the lifetimes I’ve seen him in, during the war, Dimitri is missing an eye. One time, I got him to admit that it was Cornelia’s doing. She did unspeakable things to him in the dungeons of Fhirdiad’s royal palace…” A dark look came over her, and both men could tell these were painful memories. “But, there’s something else. I know who she’s looking for, and it’s important that we get to her first.”

Jeralt raised an eyebrow. “Claude.” Byleth turned to him now with that same intense gaze. “Do you remember Hapi?” Claude wracked his brain, before a faint glimmer of recognition shone through. “Oh, yeah… The, uh, chatty redhead with the nicknames. Ah, shit, don’t tell me it’s _her_.” Byleth nodded, a sad look on her face. “She told me about what she suffered under Cornelia, once. How Cornelia turned her into a living weapon. We need to find her and keep her safe, even if Hapi herself is probably going to be very skittish. That’s our priority right now.” Everyone seemed to be in agreement, so Byleth started to stand to leave the room.

“Hold on a second, Teach. This whole thing stinks. Cornelia just _happens_ to show up immediately after your little stunt with Lonato, when you dueled that knight? When the Western Church is already planning something? I’m already not a big believer in coincidences, but this is way too much. I think you should let some of us handle hiding Hapi. In fact… The further away you stay from her, the safer she’ll be, at least unless Cornelia catches on.” Claude looked at her forcefully. Byleth met his eyes, then hummed. “You mean to say that she’s here to evaluate me as well as recapture Hapi.” Jeralt sighed. “That makes sense, kid. I hate to admit it, but he has a point.”

Byleth crossed her arms and huffed. “Well, what am I supposed to do, then? Sit around all day and wait for Cornelia to get bored? She’d never buy it, and if she suspects we’re onto her this whole thing could blow up.” Claude and Jeralt started to speak at the same time, and Jeralt shot him a look. Claude raised his hands in his familiar mock surrender gesture, though with Jeralt it felt a bit too real for his liking. “You first, big man.” Jeralt grunted, then focused on Byleth. “I can keep you plenty busy ‘aiding’ the Knights, and keep Cornelia off the girl’s trail at the same time. Besides… I want you to keep an eye on Catherine.”

Byleth clicked her tongue. “I don’t like Catherine. She’s killed me a few too many times for me to like her.” The tension in the room shot through the roof, and no one spoke for a moment. Jeralt broke the silence, saying “I’m just… gonna ignore that. I don’t need to go kill my best swordmaster because of something she did in a past that hasn’t happened yet.” He stroked his beard for a moment. “Rhea did something to her, kid, the same thing she did to me. But… I didn’t have a crest at first. Catherine already had one. I want you to keep an eye on her for me during all this, and see if Rhea’s meddling fucked with her in any way.”

Both Byleth and Claude reacted to this news with anger. “Rhea did _what_?!” Byleth’s eyes were on fire, and Claude knew for a moment that she too was thinking of Lysithea, coughing up blood after every battle of the war because of her damned crests… “Fine.” Byleth had a steely look to her. “Sothis? Inform Edelgard to get the class ready to help Claude, and then stay with her. Claude… Keep Hapi safe. Get Yuri in on this, he needs to know as well.” He nodded, trying to keep his face straight after Byleth openly talked to _the literal goddess of Fodlan_ like she’d been sitting in the room with them, and they both took their leave of Jeralt. Claude planned to head down a hidden staircase near the Cardinals’ Room, then over to the Black Eagles classroom, when Manuela’s door opened.

“A-ah, Claude. Good day…” Dimitri stood in front of him, looking bashful. “Oh, hey, your Princeliness. Uh…” Should he tell Dimitri about Cornelia? Claude studied his face quickly. His eyes were a bit red and puffy, and his voice had shaken when he addressed Claude just now… He must have had a rough time in there today. He knew that the tactical move would be to explain some of their predicament to Dimitri, maybe dangle Cornelia’s inexplicable appearance immediately after a Western Church failure in front of him… But he couldn’t do it.

“How are you doing?” Dimitri turned crimson, and stared very hard at a particularly interesting tile. Claude tried to make his voice more soothing, and put a hand on Dimitri’s shoulder. Gods he was tall already. “Listen… I know I come off as not taking a lot of things seriously, but… I want you to know that you can talk to me, if you want. Or, if you need somebody to talk at after a session with Manuela. I’m a good listener.” 

A few seconds of silence passed, and then Dimitri finally met his gaze. “...thank you for saying that. And… Thank you for recommending I visit her.” He sighed. “I am very… confused, I suppose? Yes, confused... Confused about a lot of things in my life. It will take me a while to be able to sort through my thoughts, and I had intended on going to mee-- er. That is… I may take you up on that offer, but not today.”

Claude cracked a grin. So _that_ was still going on, was it? He nodded his head, and turned to leave, but stopped a few paces away. “Lily-of-the-valley. She likes those a lot.” Dimitri blushed all the way to the tips of his ears this time. Then, Claude walked off, leaving Dimitri to think.

\---

Byleth wasn’t quite sure where Catherine had gotten off to, but she looked tense when they had spoken earlier. Trying to think about all the places prickly swordmasters liked to frequent, she quickly made up her mind to head for the training grounds. If it worked for trying to find Felix, maybe it worked for Catherine as well. Her mind was racing - if Rhea had given Catherine an infusion of her blood, like she had with Jeralt, then it wasn’t unlikely that Catherine now, unbeknownst to her, carried a second crest. But the thought of that made her blood run cold. While she highly doubted Rhea’s methods were as destructive as the ones used by the Agarthans who experimented on Lysithea and Edelgard, the simple fact that human bodies were, as a rule, too frail to support more than one crest at a time without side effects was inescapable. 

She was so lost in thought that she collided with someone as she was walking, and fell over. Blushing furiously and mentally kicking herself for her inattentiveness, she looked up with an apology already forming on her lips, only to see Balthus’s giant frame looming over her. He cracked her a grin, then gave her a hand up. “Heya pal, looking’s free, but if you want to touch, you’re gonna have to go a few rounds.” His voice was booming as usual, and Byleth wondered, as she had often done, if this man had a single ounce of tact in his entire body. His entire… body. His absurdly chiseled, muscular body. Right. Staring.

She shook her head, though it was more for her benefit than to answer him. “I wouldn’t mind going and getting some training in some time, but right now I’m busy. You haven’t seen Catherine around anywhere, have you?”

His eyes lit up. “Oh, yeah, that badass knight lady? Yeah, I saw her heading over to the training grounds. Why? You gonna go a few with her? Cause I might come by and enjoy the show, if that’s the case.” She groaned. Despite his best efforts, Balthus had grown on her over several lifetimes. He was refreshingly honest about everything, but that unfortunately included his loud and frequent commentary about how much he enjoyed the company of older women, especially ones who could, as he’d put it once, “beat my ass and have me thank ‘em for it”. Though Catherine was probably around his age - with a pang, she realized that he might have fought her and Christophe Gaspard in the Battle of the Eagle and Lion.

She stuffed her thoughts down for a moment and sighed. “Sorry to disappoint, Balthus, but I’m on business right now. I do plan to spar with her, but I… Actually, there might be something you could do for me. I want to test something with her, and to do it, I need to push her _hard_ in a sparring match. But I don’t want any watchful eyes on us to see what I’m looking for, especially not certain, ah... newly-arrived court mages. There’s gold in it if you can help.” He looked at her thoughtfully for a moment, then smiled. “Sounds good to me, pal. I’ll make sure nobody bothers you.”

Since dinner was fully underway in the dining hall, Byleth hoped there wouldn’t be too many people to clear out. She strode into the training grounds, finding it mercifully empty aside from Catherine and Felix. She walked up to the dark-haired myrmidon, tapped him on the shoulder, and said “Get lost for a while, and I’ll teach you how to pull off Astra tomorrow.” He looked at her for a moment, then set his practice sword down on the racks and left, a smirk on his face.

“Charon.” Her voice was steady, not _too_ commanding, but with an edge to it. Catherine whipped around, eyes landing on Byleth as she leaned against a pillar. She didn’t _look_ like she was suffering the effects of having two crests yet - her eyes had yet to take on the otherworldly shimmer of Edelgard’s or Lysithea’s, and her hair was still blonde as far as she could tell from where she stood, though it was possible her roots had changed. Catherine was, as Byleth realized in that moment, quite a bit taller than she was. 

Still, there was one way to find out for sure. “Jeralt told me you got fixed up. I need a good spar, one where I can actually cut loose. You in?” Catherine laughed loudly. “Just like that, huh? Sure, why not. We’ll see if you’re as good as they say.”

“One condition. We’re not going live steel,” - Catherine looked slightly disappointed - “but I want you not to hold back your crest power at all. You’re gonna need it.” A defiant gleam in Catherine’s eye nearly made her wince - perhaps this wasn’t the best plan, but she was nothing if not thorough.

The two women stared each other down, training swords in hand. Byleth was comfortable waiting - the first strike would set the pace for the match, after all. Finally, Catherine growled out “Alright, if you’re gonna wait around all day, I’ll come to you!”, and the fight was on. She could see the little manifestation of the Crest of Charon above Catherine’s hand as their blades moved rapidly. She was actually putting up a decent fight, and her crest-infused blows were tiring to block. Byleth switched her stance up and began to strike like a dancer, dodging around and making swings only when it was necessary.

Not one to be outdone, Catherine too switched her stance, favoring the quick pace of an assassin. Even though this was Catherine, Byleth had to admit - she was having a good time. More than that, even - this was exhilarating, and it was the exact thing she needed to get stronger and faster for the next time that knight showed up. She flashed Catherine a smile in spite of her negative feelings towards her, and was surprised when she got one in return. “You’re pretty good, Charon.” Catherine barked out a laugh. “You’re not so bad yourself, Eisner.” The rhythmic clacking of the wooden swords began to sound like music to her ears.

“Alright… You ready for the real fight?” Byleth dropped her smile, broke away, and resumed a swordmaster’s stance. Then she reached for the Crest of Flames. “Ha! If you think you’re gonna beat me at my specialty you’ve got another th--” The words died in Catherine’s mouth as Byleth unleashed a ferocious barrage of attacks at her. Catherine’s smile vanished, and she began furiously searching Byleth for any weakness, any opening. They fought on in silence, and Catherine’s blows grew more and more desperate. Soon, some sloppiness started to enter her technique as her energy started to drain into Byleth - the Crest of Flames at work.

Catherine was getting angry. Byleth began deliberately toying with her, leaving little openings she knew Catherine could exploit if she were _just_ a little faster. Even as she tried to exude complete confidence, she felt her strength beginning to approach its limit. The Crest of Flames hurt to call upon for sustained combat, but she was committed now.

Finally, Catherine growled out in frustration at her, before a second manifestation appeared next to the first - a Crest of Seiros. Hey eyes widened when she saw it, but then she fixed Byleth with a predatory gaze. Suddenly her blows were overwhelming, her speed incredible. Byleth needed to end things here, so she decided for something unorthodox. Focusing all her might into a single blow, she smashed her training sword into Catherine’s equally unyielding guard, and the two blades snapped. She panted, throwing down the useless hilt, and let her crest power go. Catherine was in a similar state, but looked to be a lot more winded than Byleth.

“Well… That was a hell of a fight. You’re pretty good, Charon.” She flashed a weary smile at Catherine, who reciprocated it for a moment before doubling over in pain. “Whoa, easy. Did we push too hard? I know you only just got cleared for duty again…” Catherine shot her a look, but as another wave of pain wracked her body, she clearly thought better of what she had been planning to say. Byleth concentrated on her memories of how she had learned to heal Lysithea during the war - the precise feeling of the magic, the correct locations, the level of control - and white light shone from her hands. “Here. I can fix that.” Catherine tried to protest, but gave up as sheer relief overtook her features.

The two women didn’t speak for a while. Catherine was likely processing what had just happened, and the look on her face was proof enough that she’d seen and felt the second crest kicking into action. Burning anger towards Rhea bubbled up in Byleth’s chest. How could she _do_ this to her supposedly most trusted knight? She put a hand on Catherine’s shoulder, surprised at how much she cared for her in this moment. With a pang of guilt, Byleth realized that she’d always looked at her as a zealot, nothing more than an unthinking tool in Rhea’s hand. She was snapped from her reverie by a voice cooing sweetly at the two of them.

“Oh my~! This was _certainly_ not what I expected to find after I slipped past that muscleman at the door.” She and Catherine turned their heads, and she heard Catherine curse under her breath as what this situation looked like hit her. Standing in the doorway of the training grounds was Dorothea, with a giant grin on her face. The two quickly stood, and shuffled away a bit awkwardly. Byleth spoke first, her voice low. “Catherine, listen… You should talk to Hanneman. And my father. They can help.” Catherine eyed her warily, but eventually nodded. “I’ll uh… Take my leave, then, maybe pay those two a visit later. Thanks for a good fight, at least.”

Face turning pink, Catherine wordlessly slipped past Dorothea. Byleth walked over to her, sliding on the Ashen Demon mask. “That… was not what it looked like. We were sparring, and she pushed too hard after too little recovery time. I was healing her.” Dorothea hummed, still looking mischievous, but eventually relented. “Well, that’s good, then. I thought we were going to have to have a little talk…” A dark look passed through Dorothea’s features, and Byleth made a silent note to try to be more aware and conscientious. The last thing she needed was teenage puppy love throwing her plans off.

Dorothea’s smile returned soon, though, and she began to fidget in place. Byleth stared at her for a little longer before finally speaking. “You look like you have something you want to ask me.” Dorothea nodded. “It’s… well. Come with me to tea, if you would? A friend of mine needs some… worldly advice, I guess? It’s not me, though. An actual friend.” Byleth snorted, which brought Dorothea into a fit of giggles. Once she calmed down, the two women stepped out of the training grounds. Balthus came up to them, and Byleth shot him a look. “Good work, Balthus. Now, please head to the Academy. Your services are about to be needed downstairs.” He cocked his head, but nodded and left.

Dorothea looked curiously at Byleth, but made no real attempt to interrogate her about her relationship to Balthus. Instead, they made pleasant conversation as they wound over toward the dorms, and soon Byleth found herself in front of Ingrid’s door. Realization flooded her - this was about that suitor! What a hellhole they’d gone to to find him. The two stepped inside, and Ingrid looked up at Byleth with some trepidation. “Oh, it’s okay, Ing. The professor’s a good person to talk you through things rationally. I promise you can trust her.” Dorothea had a hand on Ingrid’s shoulder, and Byleth felt a bit of heat enter her cheeks as the unexpected praise hit her. Ingrid sighed. “Well… You see, professor… My family, despite our noble status, doesn’t have a lot of wealth. Not just gold, but… Our region of Faerghus is notorious for being hard to farm. There’s just not much of _anything_ to be had at all. Part of my responsibility as the only Crest-bearing daughter of House Galatea is to…”

She twisted in her seat for a moment. Byleth shed the Ashen Demon mask for a moment, and laid a firm hand on her shoulder. “You don’t need to say any more. I’m… familiar enough with how the Kingdom treats crest-bearers to know where you’re going.” Ingrid looked up in surprise, but a small smile broke through her taciturn facade. “I… Thank you. Anyway, I received a letter from my father. It’s about a certain suitor. He’s an up and coming merchant, which could save my house if I agree to his proposal and wed him. But, Dorothea says--” “Blood money.” Dorothea had hissed the words out vehemently. “He tried to court me once, when I was a songstress. As a _child_. He’s a vile, cruel man, and his entire fortune is blood money.” A heavy silence lay in the air - this was clearly not the first time they’d said these words to each other.

Byleth sighed. “Have you considered investigating him personally?” Both women looked up at Byleth in surprise. “If he’s as bad as you say, all we would need is proof, and we could get you out of the proposal. May I see the letter?” Ingrid handed Byleth the parchment, her hand shaking. She knew she had to at least pretend like she was reading until she found the suitor’s name. “Ah. Yeah.” She put on a smirk. “Back when we were traveling, we had some run-ins with this guy. His company was infamous, though not especially well trained. Most mercenary companies are bad eggs, so to sink below that…” She paused for effect. “Anyway, I know where this guy operates out of. If you’d like, we can go… settle this matter.” Dorothea looked delighted, and Ingrid even allowed herself to look hopeful. “But the problem is, my class, with the exception of Dorothea, is busy. I’ll need to ask Hanneman if I can borrow the Blue Lions.”

After some breathless and excited gratitude from both women, Byleth trudged off to Hanneman’s office. Hanneman was, as expected, poring over his research materials. She got his attention, and after exchanging pleasantries, Byleth launched right in. “I’ve got a favor to ask you, and if you agree… I’ll let you study my crest. A big reward, for a big favor.”

\---

Edelgard was enjoying a nice, if not exactly _quiet_ dinner with most of the Black Eagles. Dorothea was nowhere to be seen, and Caspar and Lysithea had gone over to sit with Hilda, but the rest of the house was there. It was… nice, she had to admit. She felt so free, so unburdened, just knowing that Byleth and so many others were going to help her destroy the monsters who had ruined her life… That she wouldn’t have to force these people, her… acquaintances - friends seemed presumptuous, and she’d spent a long time keeping them at arm's length - to either fight against their homeland or their beliefs… It was nice to, for just a single, stolen moment, be Edelgard. Even Hubert was smiling for once, which was enough to let her know that he also felt the sense of relief she was feeling. She smiled as well as she watched him interact with Bernadetta, who was valiantly holding herself together, and even laughing occasionally. She closed her eyes, never wanting the moment to end.

“ _Edelgard!”_

Well, so much for that. She cast an eye around for the person looking for her, only to nearly fall out of her seat as Sothis flew towards her. Sothis giggled, then said. “ _Try speaking to me in your mind, I should be able to hear it. That way, you don’t have to embarrass yourself in front of your Eagles._ ” Gratitude poured off her, and Edelgard tried.

“ _Er… Hello, Sothis. What are you doing here? Where is Byleth?_ ” A warm, happy feeling washed over her as she pictured Byleth coming in the dining hall to eat with them. Sothis’ giggle turned to full laughter. “ _Ah, I suppose I should have warned you - when we speak like this, I can see all the turns your mind takes. But, I did not come to tease you overmuch. Byleth has orders."_

Her eyes widened, and Hubert stiffened as he noticed. “ _Orders? Where is she?”_ Sothis shook her head. “ _She is not in trouble, so do not worry. The enemy we know as Cornelia is in the monastery, looking for her ‘daughter’, who is one of the Ashen Wolves. Byleth is most likely being watched, so it falls to you children and the annoying one to find and safeguard Hapi._ ” Edelgard bristled at being called a child _by_ a child, before remembering that Sothis was also the goddess. A smug look crossed the little green-haired girl’s face, and Edelgard tried to clamp down on her thoughts. “ _Are we expecting trouble?”_ Her face was serious now. Sothis nodded. “ _Please be cautious. Byleth has asked me to stay with you to keep everyone safe, but my power is not unlimited. Now, go. The annoying one has likely reached your classroom by now.”_

Sothis settled on top of Edelgard’s head, and it took all of her self-control not to attempt to look up at the little goddess perched on her like some sort of bizarre crown. She heard a small huff from above her, before Sothis said “ _No more bizarre than your Imperial diadem. Do yourself a favor and commission a normal-looking crown, rather than one that requires you to wear your hair in buns_.” Sothis laughed down at her, but let Edelgard catch a glimpse of… herself? It had to be her, but… She looked older, more tired. Her crown did look a bit odd… The image faded from her mind, and Edelgard felt a wave of embarrassment hit her before she stood up. The rest of the Eagles looked at her expectantly.

“Everyone, go retrieve your weapons and meet in the classroom. We have some business to take care of tonight.” The tone of her voice said that it was not up for debate, but they all looked very confused. “I promise I’ll explain what’s going on later, but, for now… trust me.” Her heart swelled as they all agreed, and filed out. Hubert looked at her quizzically, and she muttered “I’ve got a certain tagalong with me right now. Go ahead to the classroom.” Leaving him behind, she crossed the hall over to Caspar, Lysithea, and Hilda. “I need you three to gear up and come along with me. We have some business to take care of. Involving, er… snakes. In the basement.” Caspar and Lysithea looked dumbfounded, and Hilda pinched the bridge of her nose before whispering “You’re _really_ bad at this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maaaaaaan this chapter just did not want to be written. And I've set myself up for what might potentially be a double battle chapter. Still, we're also about to see a bunch of character dynamics we haven't explored at all so far, which is great fun for me. Also, in case you can't tell, I love Balthus.
> 
> I distracted myself during the middle of this chapter by going off on a long wiki dive to put together a rudimentary cosmology / geopolitical history / world map for my own personal use with Fire Emblem stuff. I've referenced bits and pieces of it before - Byleth's steel blade from Tellius being a prime example, but I got an urge to actually flesh it out a little. I did a bad MSpaint drawing of the globe if anyone wants to see it, it includes some fun crack shit like Fodlan, Hoshido, and Nohr's maps being mirrored and a pet theory that Almyra is sandwiched between Fodlan and Nohr by mountains: https://i.imgur.com/lbpSJqW.png. It's dumb and the perspective makes it look weird, but what can you do.
> 
> Edited 01/02/21 for consistency and quality.


	18. For Love and Money (part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Schemes are hatched above and below Garreg Mach, and the Black Eagles fight for their lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CN for depictions of battle and light description of wounds.

“Ahh… You must be Knight-Captain Jeralt. The legendary warrior known as the Blade-Breaker himself. The archbishop said I might find you here.”

Jeralt looked up suddenly - he hadn’t heard the speaker come in, and that bothered him. At this time of night, the upper floors were quiet, with the occasional student group or two barreling through to the library. He’d seen Seteth excuse himself to his quarters earlier that night, and Manuela was off doing goddess knows what. Hanneman was still in his office, but other than that, Jeralt was isolated up here. 

Before him was, if he were to admit it to himself, an astonishingly attractive woman with pale red hair and a confident smile. Her attire gave away her magical power, since she wore what had once been the uniform of a gremory before undergoing radical changes to flaunt its wearer’s figure. Jeralt very nearly scowled at this unexpected arrival, before thinking better of it - it was somewhat chilling to know that this woman was one of _them_ , but he couldn’t jeopardize that Hapi kid’s safety.

“And you must be Cornelia Arnim. R- Lady Rhea mentioned you’d come in search of your daughter.” A slight flicker of a smile appeared on her face - she’d caught his little slip. Time to press. “The Knights of Seiros are, to a degree, at your service, although what with preparations for the Rite at the end of the month, there’s a lot we simply aren’t able to provide.” Work it a little bit, try to appear contrite…

“Oh dear. Well that _is_ frustrating, but I suppose I can understand. Her Grace’s safety is vital, after all. It would be simply _awful_ if something were to befall her.” They were already to the threats? This woman doesn’t waste time. “Say, Jeralt - may I call you Jeralt? - I was wondering… The archbishop mentioned that your daughter, a professor at the Officer’s Academy, had recently quelled a rebellion in Faerghus. If it isn’t _too_ much trouble, I’d like to track her down and extend gratitude from the Lord Regent. Do you… have any idea where I might find her?”

“ _Oh hell no. This thing wants By, it’s gonna have to work for it._ ” “Afraid not. She’s so busy lately I hardly ever get time to see her myself, and I’m her damn father. Last I knew she was going to work with some of the Knights on getting leads together, but that was a while ago. Sorry I can’t be of more help. Also, I’d prefer it if you used my title, instead. That’s the downside to building a name for yourself twice, you see. Around here, it’s Captain.”

Cornelia - that thing - smiled at him. “Ah, I see. I suppose that’s too bad. Well… I suppose I’ll have to go find her myself, then. Good night, Captain.”

\---

Hanneman looked at her with shock on his face. He clearly hadn’t been expecting _this_ to be the favor. Silently, Byleth swore - she thought for sure she could get his monocle to pop out of place. She could hear a woman’s voice in the hallway, but right now this was more important.

Finally, Hanneman recovered his composure enough to speak. “So… Let me see if I have this correct. You wish to take my students out from under me, to a battle, against a mercenary group that you had “run-ins” with, _in the Valley of Torment_ , and you are attempting to bribe me with your unknown Crest as a means to do so. Is that correct?”

Byleth frowned. “It sounds worse when you say it all like that, but… Yes. I--”

“Absolutely not! Frankly, I’m disappointed in you. I thought you the type of person who would not allow the knowledge that they bear a Crest to change them. Clearly I was wrong in my initial assessment.” Hanneman was… angry? This was strange. She had never asked to borrow his class before, so perhaps he was just protective? She needed to change tack immediately though, whatever the reason.

“Look, I… This isn’t for me! It’s not about revenge against a former mercenary rival or something inane like that. I… This isn’t really my place to say, but the situation demands it. The man who leads this company sent a request to Count Galatea for Ingrid’s hand in marriage, but he’s _scum_. He wants her solely so that she can, if you’ll forgive me for being crass, pop out babies until he gets one with a crest, and then he’ll ride that child’s rising tides to money and power. He’s _scum_ , and I _told_ Ingrid that he’s scum, but… The financial situation of House Galatea has her feeling trapped, to the point where she thinks that she has to at least consider it.”

A beat.

“I don’t know Ingrid that well, myself. My student, Dorothea Arnault, brought this whole situation to my attention. But now that I know, I can’t just _ignore_ this. My students are otherwise occupied right now, and this can’t wait for much longer. So, I thought it might be better for Ingrid if she could go to face this man surrounded by her friends from the Blue Lions. I… don’t really have a rebuttal to the bribery bit. That part is true. But--”

Hanneman raised a hand. He looked tired, far more than she had seen him look before. “Professor… Perhaps I did jump to conclusions a bit quickly. I retract my words, and apologize. But… I still cannot allow you to take my class by yourself.” Byleth started to protest - didn’t he realize the stakes here? - when Hanneman let out a long sigh. “You must understand this feeling. What if I had asked to borrow your Black Eagles? Or Manuela? Could you truly stand leaving them unsupervised on the battlefield without you?”

Byleth deflated. “I… no. I couldn’t. If something happened to them, and I wasn’t able to stop it…” The older man laid a hand on her shoulder. “Precisely why I cannot let you take them. And yet… I also cannot ignore the plight of Miss Galatea. Her situation... “ A quiet chill overtook Hanneman. “It is one I am all too familiar with the end result of. I cannot in good conscience allow it to happen again, not while I yet draw breath. Thus, I propose that I come along with you. Since you know this man’s tactics, you shall command, but I shall be there alongside my students to protect them in the event of the unforeseen. What do you say?”

\---

Edelgard had no idea how Byleth did it. Corralling the Black Eagles was effort enough, but adding in Claude and Hilda, as well as Yuri and a giant brawler who refused to wear a shirt… It was enough to drive one mad. “ _Sothis… Can’t you do something about this?_ ” Sothis snorted in laughter. “ _Oh, no, no… I’m afraid I’m useless at this. Byleth has always done it on the force of her will and personality. But I’m sure you can figure something out._ ” She sighed, pinched the bridge of her nose, and made a decision. Edelgard stood up on Byleth’s desk, and banged her axe and shield together to silence the din in the classroom.

“Attention! Eagles and guests! Now that we are all here, it is time to go over our mission briefing. Hubert, if you would?” All eyes went from her to Hubert, as he began casting Muffling. This was best done without prying ears, after all. “Thank you. Now then… Professor Byleth has given us a secret mission. Some of you may have heard of the arrival of the court mage of Faerghus, Cornelia Arnim. Byl-- that is, the Professor, has reason to suspect that this person is an impostor. Her objective in coming to Garreg Mach is to find and capture a girl some of you might have met while sneaking around where you don’t belong, and one you two” - she nodded towards Yuri and the large man, who she assumed was also an Abyssian by what little clothing he did wear - “know well. Her name is Hapi.”

The large man cried out in alarm. “Hapi’s in trouble?! Is that why your prof had me standing guard earlier?” Yuri put a firm hand on the large man’s arm, and shot her an apologetic look. “Sorry about Balthus, he’s a bit attached to Hapi. All of us Wolves are. Go on.”

Edelgard nodded, filing the large brawler - Balthus - away in her memory. “We have reason to believe that Cornelia wants to kidnap Hapi because of her crest. I don’t know what it is, only that it is rare, and has a powerful side effect attached to it. Our mission tonight is to enter Abyss, find Hapi, and relocate her to a safehouse that the Knights and our friends from Abyss have made jointly. For details, I turn the floor over to Yuri. If you would?”

Yuri nodded, stepping forward. “First things first - Abyss is ancient. No complete maps exist, and if you don’t stick together, you may not make it back out. There’s all sorts of nasty little surprises down there, which would normally serve to stop good little surface dwellers like yourselves from making visits. The general rule is that Abyssians don’t meddle in surface affairs and surfacers don’t meddle in Abyss’ affairs. We’re waiving that rule _temporarily_ since you’re helping one of ours, but that won’t last, and it especially won’t last if you try to make trouble.”

He shot each of the Eagles and Hilda a short look, and positively glared at Claude and Hubert. “Now as for the actual details, we’re going to be following the main tunnel to the city proper, pick up Hapi from our base, and then follow a tunnel to one of the old arenas. They’re… strange places, and if we’re going to get ambushed anywhere it’ll be there. Once we get through that arena, we’ll be walking for a few kilometres, so make sure you’ve got stamina left for that. Once we reach the safehouse we’re going to, your part in this is done. I’ll make sure you all find your way home at that point. Any questions?”

No one raised any hands, which Edelgard gave a silent sigh of relief for. “One more thing before we go,” she said, slowly. “I know some of you might feel nervous about not having the Professor with us directly, but, you don’t need to worry. I swear to you that, in her stead, I will protect each and every one of you, with my life if necessary. Don’t forget the strength of the bonds you each have, and fight like I know you can.”

Hopping down from the desk, Edelgard hefted her axe onto her shoulder, nodded to Claude and Yuri, and began marching towards the entrance to Abyss.

\---

Byleth left Hanneman’s office, only to be ambushed by Cornelia at the door. Her face was contorted into a smile, but Byleth knew the monster she truly was. Rather than involve Hanneman in this, she pulled his door shut behind her, and silently cast a weak Muffling on it so that he wouldn’t hear them speaking.

“Ah, and _you_ must be Captain Jeralt’s daughter, Byleth. A _pleasure_ to meet you. I am Cornelia Arnim. I must congratulate you on your… resourceful handling of the rebellion in Gaspard territory. That duty should have fallen to the Kingdom, but as I’m sure you know, things in the Kingdom are in a bit of a… bad state. Such a shame…”

Byleth pulled her Ashen Demon mask on tightly. “Indeed. But, Lady Rhea says that punishing sinners is a duty of the church, so I suppose we simply got to it first.”

Cornelia flashed a toothy smile. “ _Quite_ so. But then, it was you who convinced Lonato to stand down and confess his crimes, was it not? If it had been up to us, Lonato would have died. How lucky for him… Though I must admit, it is rather unorthodox for a mercenary with a reputation like yours to choose a silver tongue over a silver sword.”

Byleth hummed. “I suppose I am a rather unorthodox person.”

Cornelia’s eyes narrowed, and she practically purred out the word “Indeed…”

Then, she widened her eyes in a passable attempt to look shocked. “Ah, but dear me, I’ve gotten sidetracked. I know dear Rufus, the Lord Regent of Faerghus, would have wanted to extend this gratitude himself, but alas… I was already on my way to Garreg Mach when word of your heroism arrived. Have you heard my plight yet?”

Byleth hummed, silently wishing she could talk to Sothis right now. “I have. I heard that your daughter is missing. You have my sympathy, but I admit that I am curious why you’ve come to look here of all places. Surely your daughter lives in Faerghus as well?” “ _Explain your way out of this, you piece of filth. Try it._ ”

Cornelia affected a sorrowful face. “Well… To tell you the truth, my dear, sweet Hapi ran away from home. You know how teenagers are, given that you teach many of them… Well, Hapi always loved the church dearly, so it makes sense to me to look for her here. In addition, Garreg Mach’s location makes it ideal for receiving news from all over.”

It was all Byleth could do to not laugh in her face. Hapi, a fan of the church? What was next, Felix giving up the sword? Still, she needed to play along… “I understand. I and my students will be working with the Knights of Seiros very closely over the coming moon, so we will certainly look for her. In the meantime, I suggest that you try to rest. I am not a parent myself, but I have to imagine that losing a child is an incredible strain. We will, of course, keep you up to date on any new developments.”

Cornelia gave a small bow of her head to Byleth, attempting to look the part of the old Cornelia’s reputation as a saintly healer. “That is all I can ask… Good night, Professor.” Byleth watched as she walked away, footsteps receding down the stairs to the ground floor, before letting out a hiss of frustration. She clearly didn’t plan this well enough. There was no way she could regain Cornelia’s attention without acting suspiciously, but there was also no way she could trust herself to play nicely with this smug Agarthan. 

She needed to find something to occupy herself with, as she knew that trying to go to sleep early would only lead to her spending a sleepless night lying awake in anguish as she fretted about her kids. She slid down the wall between Hanneman and Seteth’s offices, and held her head in her hands. In a soft voice, fully knowing it didn’t do any good, she whispered to her absent goddess friend. “Sothis… I don’t think this was a good plan. I’m going to go crazy from worry before the night ends…”

“Dear child? Are you alright?” Fear cut through Byleth like a lance. She looked up, only to find Rhea standing in front of her, serene smile replaced with a worried frown. How much had she heard? Did she hear her speaking to Sothis? Stupid, stupid, stupid... 

Bracing herself for the worst, Byleth responded in as neutral a voice as she could muster. “A-ah. That’s… I’ll be fine in the morning. It’s just been a long day.” Rhea nodded, the ornaments on her headdress swinging along. “It has indeed. If you don’t mind, I would like to invite you to take tea with me. I find a cup of chamomile beneath the stars is perfect for calming a stormy heart, and I would adore the opportunity to speak with you in private. Will you join me?”

Swallowing her fear, Byleth knew that she _could_ try to get out of this, but… Something in Rhea’s eyes was different. They weren’t fiery, or hungry. She didn’t look like she was appraising her, or passing judgment on lowly sinners. The look in her eyes was… pleading? She had, of course, taken tea with Rhea in other lifetimes, but never at night, and the invitation was never this unguarded. Against her better judgment, Byleth found herself wanting to ease Rhea’s burdens. Even as she rebelled against that thought as it became conscious, she found herself nodding affirmatively. Rhea lightly clapped her hands together at her chest, a smile breaking out onto her face. “Oh, wonderful! I had so hoped you would. Please, follow me, dear child. I shall lead you to the best view of the stars anywhere at Garreg Mach.”

\---

The group was moving through Abyss with purpose, and attracting much less attention than Edelgard had imagined. Perhaps it was the sight of Yuri and Balthus scowling in the front of the group that kept them from being bothered, or the fact that all of them were armed and armored. Claude had surprised them with some “borrowed” armor he left at the entrance to Abyss, and after gearing up, the twelve of them had looked, at least to her mind, tough enough not to be bothered. Along the way, they were met by a girl Edelgard had thought she would never see again - Constance von Nuvelle.

When she first joined up with the group, she was incensed, yelling at Yuri about her “delicate experiments” being disrupted. Then, she caught Edelgard’s eye. “Why, Lady Edelgard von Hresvelg herself! It is an incredible honor to meet you once again, despite the circumstances.” Constance bowed low, and Edelgard had to fight hard to keep from shushing her. “It’s good to see you again too, Constance, but please, try to keep your voice low. We’re on a mission, and I would rather the enemy not know who I am, if they don’t already.” But, she had been saved from Constance’s response by an equally stunned cry of “Lady Constance?!” from Ferdinand. He practically had stars in his eyes as he saw her, but Edelgard noted a sharp muting in Constance’s demeanor when he came over. A question for another time, perhaps.

Now, they were getting close to the Ashen Wolves’ base. Byleth had mentioned the layout of the city’s main area included a classroom that the Wolves would often use for meetings, but they had long since veered off the part she had any familiarity with. Trusting in Yuri’s leadership rankled her, but since he was concerned for Hapi himself, Edelgard tried to relax. Frustratingly, it seemed she didn’t really remember how to allow herself to be led by anyone besides Byleth these days. Sothis snickered from above her head, but Edelgard ignored it. Soon, they reached a nondescript door along a side tunnel, and Yuri motioned for everyone to enter it, quietly.

As she entered, she took stock of the room. It had defensive barricades set up to make it tricky to walk through, and potentially led on for quite some ways back into the stone. Their group made it through the initial room, which had quite a few more men ducked down behind the barricades than she had imagined, and entered into another, larger chamber. On the far side, two women were seated at a table, talking softly. One was, from Sothis’ description, Hapi, and the other had long, purple hair like Yuri’s, with a kind face that had obviously seen hard years.

The group strode up, and Hapi looked over, warily. “Yuri-bird… You want to explain what this is?” She had the look of a cornered animal, and Edelgard feared for a moment that she was going to lash out at them. The other woman put a hand on Hapi’s arm, and spoke softly, saying “It’s alright, dear. You don’t need to worry.” She saw the faintest hint of a smile on Yuri’s face, before he cleared his throat.

“Alright, short introductions. Everyone, the redheaded one is Hapi, and _this_ one is my mother, Amelia. Hapi and mother, meet…” He paused, glancing back at all of them. “Edelgard, Hubert, Ferdinand, Caspar, Linhardt, Bernadetta, Petra, Lysithea, Claude, and Hilda.” He had pointed to each of them in turn, but there was no way that either woman would be able to remember that many names said that qui--

“Got it. Now, why are they here?” Well, Hapi was nothing if not direct. With a start, she realized that Yuri was looking at her expectantly. Clearing her throat, she stepped forward. “Hapi. We’re here on behalf of Professor Byleth. I’m sorry to say, but Cornelia Arnim has come to Garreg Mach, looking for you.” Hapi paled, but said nothing. “Byleth is trying to keep an eye on her above ground, and in the meantime, we’re going to be moving you to a safehouse. Byleth’s father and Yuri worked with one another to put it together. We’re going to be moving now, and ideally we’ll get there in a couple hours.” More silence.

Sothis chimed in, finally. “ _Edelgard, I believe you’re scaring her. Try to comfort her - even if she is in danger, she needs to trust that you won’t allow that woman to hurt her again._ ” Edelgard nodded slightly, refocusing on Hapi. “You’ll have to lay low for a while, but… I promise you, we will not let Cornelia harm you again.” Claude and Yuri shot her a surprised look, which she ignored. “Are you ready to go?”

Hapi looked at her with an odd look in her eye. She opened and closed her mouth several times before finally speaking. “How did you know she hurt me before?” Edelgard sweated a little - how _was_ she supposed to explain Byleth’s knowledge of the future? Her mind raced as she discarded ideas left and right, then - aha! 

“Byleth is remarkably gifted with magic. She said that she could tell something was off in your magical aura when you first met, and upon meeting Cornelia she was able to connect the two feelings. It was guesswork, but judging from your reaction, it seems she was right. All the more reason we need to be here to stand with you now.” Hapi sat quietly for a while, turning this over. For a moment, Edelgard worried that she was going to reject her explanation, but finally, mercifully, she nodded. Petra and Lysithea moved to help Hapi pack, and Edelgard silently exhaled the tension she had built up in that moment. 

“You know, you really should come up with cover stories before going on a mission.” She turned slowly, to not attract attention, but was unsurprised to find Yuri staring at her. “Not that I’m saying you didn’t pull a convincing and plausible lie out of nothing, but… That’s more a testament to how good of a bullshitter you already were than anything.” Edelgard stared back, lilac and violet eyes meeting in some unspoken battle of wills. She scoffed. “Do you object?”

A smirk bloomed on Yuri’s face. “No, no. Just giving you advice. Hapi is far too trusting for her own good. If you try to pull shit like that for real, you’re going to get hurt.” His smile vanished. “And I bet Byleth would be devastated if something were to happen to you.” She opened her mouth to snipe back at him, when Hapi walked up. “Hey, Yuri-bird, Eddy. I’m ready.” Yuri put a hand on both her and Hapi’s shoulders. “Well then, we’d best not waste any more time. Let’s get moving.”

Their party set out again with Hapi in the middle five minutes later. Yuri was in the lead again, but Edelgard and Hubert had opted to flank Hapi for safety’s sake. They were getting close to the old disused arena, and the party was on edge, aside from Hapi. She seemed remarkably relaxed, and Edelgard was sure that Hubert had picked up on the strangeness of it as well. “So… Hapi,” she began, trying to diffuse the tension she felt. “Are you originally from the Kingdom?” 

Hapi shook her head. “Nope. From a little tiny village in the woods west of here. You haven’t heard of it.” Edelgard looked at Hubert, nonplussed. Villages in the great Adrestian forest weren’t all that uncommon, but the confidence with which she said it was odd. “Really? It’s possible I might, I--” Hapi growled, actually _growled_ at her. “Look. I appreciate you trying to be sweet and all, but I don’t trust you. You’re here to make sure _she_ doesn’t get her monster back. That’s all. We don’t need to be buddies.”

Monster… Edelgard flooded with empathy - Hapi thought she was a monster, twisted by Those Who Slither in the Dark. “No!” Edelgard cried, a bit louder than she meant to. Her classmates looked at her, but thankfully kept walking. “No… I’m sorry for shouting, but… You aren’t a monster. What was done to you… It wasn’t your fault.” Bracing herself, Edelgard continued before waiting for Hapi to argue. “I too was… experimented upon. I too possess dangerous power as a result of it. But someone that I care about deeply heard my story, heard all the ugliness that makes up who I thought I was, and told me that I was not a monster. I am just Edelgard, just as you are just Hapi. Neither one of us is a monster. The person who told me that isn't here right now, so it falls to me to say it in her stead.”

Hapi turned her face away resolutely, but Edelgard could hear sniffling coming from behind the long, red hair that now covered her from view. Sothis whispered into her ear, “ _It is good that you were here, Edelgard. This world has many who have been twisted and broken - they need someone like you to shepherd them. Byleth would be proud._ ” Edelgard felt her cheeks burning crimson, but didn’t have time to respond as the tunnel they’d been walking in suddenly opened up widely. They had made it to the ancient arena.

Statues of saints and carvings detailing church history adorned the walls, and a tiled path led from their tunnel toward the center, where it met with three other paths extending away at right angles. Despite this, the stadium seating made it clear that this crossroads was indeed some sort of arena or amphitheater. Pillars stretched up into the darkness above, dotted at regular intervals around the place. As soon as they reached the center of the room, blinding light flashed all around them. Looking around them quickly, Edelgard realized that dozens of armed soldiers clad in black had been warped in. Those Who Slither in the Dark were making their play. Edelgard shouted “To arms!”, and hefted her axe and shield. Just then, a voice rang out. “Ah! _There_ you are, you naughty little girl. How dare you run away from me.” With a cruel laugh, Cornelia stepped out of the darkness. 

\---

Byleth found herself sitting on the star terrace, a grand open-air balcony that featured a giant pattern on the floor in the shape of the Crest of Timotheos. It was ironic - her students were even now moving to help Timotheos’ cursed descendant flee from the vile creature that had cursed her in the first place, and here Byleth was sipping tea like some idiot noble lady in waiting. Rhea caught her eyeing the large crest on the ground, and asked “Are you interested by that design, Professor? I can tell you of it, if you would like.” Byleth sipped her tea, and she had to admit that chamomile under the stars was one of the more relaxing experiences she’d had. “No need, Archbishop. That’s the Crest of Timotheos, one of the Four Apostles, right? They say that he left Garreg Mach shortly after its completion and founded a small village in the wilds of the Adrestian forests.” Rhea looked at her with surprise.

“I did not realize you had become so studiously learned in Church history! That pleases me to no end, of course, but… Forgive me when I say that it was not my expectation. Especially given the… less than pleasant nature that our monthly briefings have taken. I… wish to apologize for the way I spoke to you yesterday, in fact.” Byleth nearly choked on her tea, and looked up at Rhea. Sadness was etched on her face, and what’s more it seemed genuine. Rhea was behaving bizarrely tonight. “Archbishop, I--” Rhea raised a hand.

“Please, Professor… In this place, when we are alone, I am not speaking to you as the Archbishop, but as Rhea. Both roles are important, but… There is more to me as Rhea than I am allowed to express as the Archbishop.” Byleth tried to keep the confusion off her face. What was Rhea’s game here? She had to have one, surely. To buy herself time to think it through, Byleth responded, “In that case, Rhea… Can you call me by _my_ name? It wouldn’t feel right, me calling you by your name and you calling me by a title.” To her surprise, Rhea blushed ever so slightly. “I… suppose I can, yes. Hmm. Byleth...” She paused, as if tasting the unfamiliar sound of Byleth’s name. “Yes. I can certainly do that.”

A moment of silence passed between them, and Byleth stared up at the night sky. Rhea had been right, of course - this place had an incredible view of the stars. Memories welled up in her unbidden of her first lifetime, when she had seen Rhea singing under the stars… Sothis’ song. A cold feeling swept through her chest - she missed Sothis. Her mind turned to the vision she had in Zanado, where she watched Rhea’s younger self fight, and fall… 

“Byleth?”

The sound of her name snapped her from her thoughts. “Oh! Sorry, yes, um, did you say something? I was lost in thought.” Rhea laughed softly. “No, dear child. I merely wished to make sure that you had not fallen asleep under the stars.”

Something about tonight had put Byleth in a pensive state, and to break out of it, she spoke without really thinking. “I’ve been thinking a lot about dreams lately.” Rhea cocked her head. “Oh? Have you been having strange dreams?” A hint of that hunger had crept into her voice again. Byleth shook her head slowly. “Not strange, per se. I dreamed about fighting a battle at Garreg Mach, and as I tried to defend someone close to me, I was knocked into the canyon. It’s got to be related, right? To have that kind of dream after what I saw in Zanado?” Rhea had grown very still, hardly even breathing.

Just then, she felt the lurch of a Divine Pulse. Steadying herself with another sip of her tea, Byleth waited a moment to fully calm herself, then continued. “For some reason, I can’t stop thinking about that woman. She seemed like a warrior, but in that last moment, before she fell… I can’t help but think that her emotions were similar to mine in my dream. Fighting to protect people she cared about, only to be forced away from the fight… Falling, powerless to do anything. Scared of what was to come, but more scared for those she’d be leaving behind... It seems like such a horrible fate. I hope wherever she ended up, she was able to find some peace.”

She spotted a tear leak from Rhea’s eye. Now, to press her a little. “Rhea… Can I speak completely openly for a moment?” Rhea fixed her with a look of surprise, but simply nodded. She likely didn’t trust her voice not to waver right now. “I… agreed to go with the Blue Lions to help one of them, the sole crest-bearing heir of one of the Kingdom’s noble houses, investigate and… deal with, a suitor. He’s the type of scum who only wants her for her crest, to increase his own prestige with no regard for her life, or happiness. The more I’ve learned about politics and the upper echelons of Fodlan’s society while I’ve been here, the less I like. This kind of thing is rampant - the nobility is full of utter swine who treat the crestless like trash, and those with crests like breeding studs. It’s sickening, Rhea. And yet… Whenever I’ve taken the opportunity to look into how the church handles situations like this, I’ve found something disturbing. The church… _supports_ these nobles.”

She stood, walking to the front of the star terrace. “I don’t understand why the church could possibly support these atrocious acts, but… It makes me fear it. And dislike it. I’ve begun to see why Father avoided the church like he did for my whole life - he must have seen the church as complicit in some horrible things, too. I… I don’t _understand_ , Rhea!” She whirled around, not needing to act to bring forward some tears as her own, actual frustrations came forward. “How can, can… _this_ be what the goddess wanted? She gave every ounce of her strength to heal the land and restore its people, and this… I can’t reconcile this with the church’s teachings about her at all. Please… You’re the archbishop of the church. Can you help me to understand?”

Rhea looked torn. She was obviously wary at this outburst of emotion and negative sentiment towards the church, but Byleth could also tell that whatever had driven Rhea to invite her in the first place was fighting mightily to speak. Unbeknownst to her, another Pulse rippled through Byleth’s chest, and she prayed silently with all her might that her students were okay. After a minute of silence (give or take however much time the Pulse had eaten), it seemed that this strange impulse won, as Rhea extended a hand to invite Byleth back to her seat.

“Please understand… You are asking why the world is the way that it is. That question… It is hardly something that can be given a simple answer. And yet… What you say rings true. Perhaps those who established the order of the things did not fully consider the consequences of their actions. Perhaps the Goddess _would_ be upset by what has transpired since her passing from this world… But at the same time, we cannot combat the way society is run. The Church of Seiros is here to guide and instruct, not change. Were we to attempt to challenge the dynamics of power in this world, blades would be drawn, and this holy Church would be torn asunder…”

Byleth’s mind reeled at the implications of what she was saying. “You mean to say… We’re in this mess now, and the only way to get through it is to keep making the same mistakes?” Tears began to flow down Rhea’s face, and to her annoyance Byleth felt them beginning to fall from her as well. Rhea’s voice was barely a whisper when she responded again. “Perhaps Saint Seiros made mistakes. Ending a war and creating a new order to the world are monumental tasks, even for ones such as her. But I know in my heart of hearts that she never would have wanted… this.”

They sat in silence for a long time afterwards. Eventually, Rhea began to sing, softly.

“In time’s flow, see the glow

Of flames ever burning bright...

On the swift river’s drift

Broken memories alight…”

She clutched at her arms, looking forlorn as the words ran out too soon. Byleth, for all her distrust towards Rhea, couldn’t just _leave_ her in that state, could she?

“That is a beautiful song, Rhea.” Rhea snapped her head upwards, remembering that she was in fact not alone. “Ah… Thank you, Byleth. It… was a song that my mother wrote, so very long ago. I’m afraid I can only recall that tiny amount of it, though. It brings me comfort in difficult times, despite having forgotten much of it. Ah, but, dear me… It has grown so late. I apologize for keeping you here this long.”

A third Pulse - things were not going well for the Eagles, and Byleth had to fight to resist running screaming down to Abyss after them. Breathing in deeply, she mastered herself, and shook her head. “It’s fine. I… I wasn’t going to be sleeping tonight, as it was. Having tea with you, speaking, and spending time here… It’s nice. It kept my mind from wandering. I suppose now I’ll go to the training grounds, or perhaps fish.”

A strange look crossed Rhea’s face. “If… If you are going to be awake until dawn as it is… no. Forgive me, it is a foolish request.” She twisted her robe in her hands. Byleth sighed. “No. Go ahead, what were you going to ask? The least I can do is hear you out after you heard me out.”

Rhea looked away for a moment, up into the sky. Returning her gaze to Byleth, she shivered. “I… there are some nights when the sting of loneliness pierces my heart. Tonight is one such night. Would you… would you be willing to stand guard in my chambers? I know it is improper, but… I would feel greatly comforted by your presence.”

Byleth’s mind was blank. She… wanted company? Seiros, unassailable warrior-priestess, who had sculpted her mother to be a vessel and had, at least in times when she had fought against the church, viewed _Byleth_ as merely a failed vessel as well, wanted someone to stay with her to chase away the kinds of thoughts that come at night? She wanted _her_ for that, even after defying her at every turn since coming to Garreg Mach in this lifetime? Byleth wanted to refuse her flatly, but something... Something pulled at her, and before she knew it, she found herself nodding.

“I… Would be happy to stay with you, Rhea.”

\---

The grating sound of steel crashing against steel rang out and echoed strangely in the muffled air of the arena. If she’d had time to properly think about it, Edelgard might have been curious at how sound didn’t seem to carry like it should in a cavernous room like this, but Edelgard did not have the luxury of time to think. She was fighting back to back with Claude and Balthus, herself and the large brawler dispatching troops from Those Who Slither as they got in close even as Claude fired arrow after arrow into the darkness. She looked around, assessing their situation.

That they had expected an ambush was good - it saved them from total annihilation. Their party had paired off: Ferdinand and Petra, Linhardt and Lysithea, Caspar and Hilda, Bernadetta and Hubert. The Ashen Wolves found niches where they could, and they were proving to be quite the effective force. Constance had somehow summoned a coal-black pegasus into the underground arena, and she and Hapi were atop it, raining death upon any of Those Who Slither who dared to show their face for too long. Yuri was warping between the groups rapidly, assisting as needed. She’d have to ask him about that trick later, but for now it was a welcome surprise.

Still, ambushes were hard to come out of unscathed, not to mention that Cornelia had somehow given Byleth the slip. Edelgard wasn't _too_ worried for her safety, but even so... Shaking her head, she refocused her thoughts. Caspar and Hilda had slain several each, but had been rewarded with fairly substantial cuts to their arms, and one to Caspar’s face. Likewise, Ferdinand and Petra were covered in little cuts, and she saw the stump of an arrow in Petra’s left arm. She and Balthus were faring better, comparatively, but they’d taken several strong blows from a mage that Claude was having trouble pinning down. 

Suddenly, a Miasma spell tore through the battlefield, landing directly in Balthus’s unguarded chest. He cried out as the spell began to melt his flesh, and Edelgard screamed out Sothis’ name as time lurched to a halt. She appeared worried, but shook her head before Edelgard could speak. “ _No time. It was Cornelia, from twenty meters in that direction. Balthus can dodge if you tell him to move three seconds after time resumes_.” She nodded, feeling that odd sensation again as time began to flow once more. Soon after, she cried out, “Balthus, dodge left! Claude, enemy twenty meters, left side!” 

Sure enough, Cornelia stood next to a pillar she’d been lurking behind, and she had evidently been looking pleased with herself until her position was called out. Claude shot several arrows towards her, but the wily mage warped away. That proved to be a mistake, though, as Constance and Hapi caught sight of her on the way out. The two dove towards her on Constance’s pegasus, Constance hurling Ice spells, and Hapi sending out a stream of dark magic spikes. They would keep her busy for a while, hopefully. Edelgard returned her attention to keeping the soldiers off of Claude. The sheer amount of enemy soldiers was discouraging. There were dozens of them, and they were no pushovers. Each one of them bore weapons and armor made from that strange metal the black knight they encountered in Gaspard had, and finding ways to down them was that much harder for it.

She estimated that they had cut the enemy numbers by a third at this point, but that didn’t allow her to relax. She darted forward, leaving Balthus to guard Claude at close range while she took mid-range, and cleaved several ill-prepared lancers nearly in two. Ferdinand and Petra were nearby, working in tandem like a well-oiled machine. He had grown fond of using his superior reach to hobble an opponent, stabbing through their thigh if he could, while Petra whirled in from the side to strike the killing blow. Off to her right, Linhardt had a hand on Lysithea’s back, constantly pouring in magical energy as the small girl unleashed a maelstrom of spells. Her sustained barrage had destroyed several of the pillars in the room, and left several still bodies on the ground.

Bernadetta and Hubert were likewise felling enemies with precision. Bernadetta’s shots were striking true, though she was not able to land many lethal shots due to the superior armor of their enemies. Hubert had evidently decided to take a page from Byleth’s playbook, concentrating his magic down and through the arrows embedded into the footsoldiers of Those Who Slither to cause incredible internal damage. Caspar and Hilda were covered in a shocking amount of blood, and at least a dozen corpses were scattered around them. 

Suddenly, she felt a sharp pain as an arrow tore into her left thigh through a gap in her armor plating. She dropped to one knee, raising her shield to defend against counterattacks, and hissed out “Leave it!” to Sothis. She could fight through this - she'd been through worse. Snapping the arrow off a little bit above the skin, she stood once more. Her left leg couldn’t take much weight, but that was fine. She took her axe in the hand that held her shield, and grabbed one of the hand axes she had strapped to her belt. Finding the archer who had likely taken the shot on her, she briefly called on the Crest of Seiros for a boost of power, and whipped the axe into his skull. No sooner had she done that than a terrible pain blossomed in her side and back - a swordsman had gotten in behind her guard and stabbed her through one of the joint near her underarm. She winced as Sothis rewound time again, quickly repeating her maneuver with the hand axe to fell the archer before turning on the now-surprised swordsman, cleaving weapon and flesh in two as she fell on him. 

The pain was gone, but she could still feel where she’d been injured, just like before. Sothis spoke wearily to her as she scanned for more threats. “ _Edelgard, you must focus. I think I can only manage one more Pulse. Now then… visualize your pain being healed. Go on._ ” It seemed silly, but Edelgard was not really in the mood to argue with the goddess atop her head right now. She did the visualization, and nearly gasped as something cold pressed into where she had been wounded before time was reversed - Sothis had pressed her form into Edelgard’s. Relief sank in immediately, and she muttered a quiet “Thank you”.

Yuri warped in next to her. “We’ve got them on the ropes, but Cornelia is giving Constance and Hapi hell. Can you get in there and distract her so they can get a good shot in?” She nodded, and Yuri grabbed her arm. In a blink, they had warped away towards the thick of battle, and she saw Cornelia hurling black orbs at the frantically dodging pair on Constance’s pegasus. Charging forward, she split one of the troops down the middle, stepping over his body as it fell and giving a savage scream. Cornelia looked over, startled by her sudden appearance, and started trying to throw spells at her. Evidently she had run out of the energy needed to cast Warp, but she was annoyingly quick to dodge around. 

She got in close, into Cornelia’s guard, and slashed frantically. She nicked Cornelia’s arm, watching as a hiss of dark magic escaped from the wound. For her trouble, she got blasted backwards - Cornelia was angry now, and pulling out bigger and more dangerous spells. She took another one in her shield, which was wrenched out of her hand by the force. The impact of the spell twisted her wrist, as well, which meant Edelgard now had to fight one-handed, without a shield. Drawing power from her Crests together was the only option she had, but just as she had the thought, she was blasted away onto her back - her chest was ablaze with purple flames as the magic ate through her plate armor, and her body felt like it was melting.

Sothis halted time again, appearing incredibly exhausted. “ _I… I can undo this, but the battle needs to come to an end_ now _, otherwise we will start to take casualties. If only we had an ambush of our… of… Ah! That’s it! Edelgard, tell Hapi to sigh, and then run as far as you can away from Cornelia!_ ” Mind boggling at what she was being told, Edelgard nodded. As time resumed, she found herself back at mid-range to Cornelia, and to cover her barking orders, she whipped a second hand axe towards Cornelia, who snarled and dodged out of the way. Taking the opportunity, Edelgard cried out “HAPI! SIGH, NOW!”

The red-haired girl on the pegasus looked shocked, but quickly overcame that as she realized what Edelgard intended. She sighed twice, deeply, then had Constance dive down to pick Edelgard up. She had to abandon her axe and shield to fit, but the three of them flew away. Edelgard took the opportunity to start hurling Fire magic down towards Cornelia, and Hapi joined her.

A terrible roar pierced the air, as demonic beasts with hides like scaly stone burst through one of the passages nearby, summoned by Hapi's cursed power. Cornelia gave a frightened cry, and her soldiers turned to try to defend her. Just then, Hapi’s eyes flashed with determination, and she hurled a gigantic, pale orb - a Luna spell - at Cornelia. The older woman did not notice it in time, and was blasted backwards, wreathed in black and purple flames. She slid to a halt next to one of the giant creatures, and as she struggled to her feet, she was pierced through the chest by a giant claw. Her eyes bulged, and inky black fluid spurted from her mouth.

The three of them watched in silence as Cornelia struggled in vain to escape the beast’s claw, but their moment of triumph was short-lived as an arrow tore through one of the pegasus’ wings. Screaming, the three of them plummeted down towards the ground, and even as Constance somehow managed to stabilize their fall, Edelgard found herself bucked off the back, falling, falling, falling…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay in my defense this chapter was getting *really* long and then I had some very nice whisky and the writing quality of the scenes started dropping fast. So, Part 1 now, Part 2 once I've slept off this buzz. Probably a few hours? No more than a day I should think. I'm comin', Dima! Also the battle pairs *might* be my minor ships for this...
> 
> The soft Rhea section was entirely a product of me going "but what if Rhea was a nice mom lady" because I'm drinking
> 
> Edited 01/02/21 for consistency and quality.


	19. For Love and Money (part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Black Eagles lick their wounds, Byleth and Dimitri talk, and the Blue Lions have what could academically be considered a battle, if you squint.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CN for some minor gore in the after-action report from Yuri in the second and third sections, and a depiction of the events of the first half of the Tragedy of Duscur (i.e. Dimitri's father's death, not the pogrom against Duscurians that happened after) in Dimitri's second POV section.

When Edelgard came to, pain radiated out from her back. Though it was hard to tell as she stared bleary-eyed up at him, Hubert was beside her. Judging from how calm he was, she figured that the battle must be over. “Agh… Hubert… What happened? Is everyone alright?” She gasped as she felt healing magic enter her body, and looked down to see Lysithea and Linhardt tending to her. Hubert nodded, and as her eyes regained focus, she noticed that he had a hand on Bernadetta’s back, who was sitting cross-legged next to her, holding her hand. She managed a weak smile, and the purple-haired archer returned it. “I’m glad you’re okay, Edelgard… W-when we saw you fall… I was so scared.”

“Indeed, Edelgard! You gave us all quite the scare!” Ferdinand’s voice boomed from off to her right, and as she slowly turned her head, she noticed Yuri healing Petra’s arrow wound as she sat on a broken pillar, close to Ferdinand. She smiled wider. Yuri shot her an odd look. Caspar, Hilda, and Balthus were all chatting animatedly, and she saw Balthus throw an arm over each of their shoulders, laughter in his incredibly loud voice. Constance was rubbing Hapi’s back off to her left, and she saw tear tracks on Hapi’s face even as laughter rang out from their side of the room. 

After finishing with Petra, Yuri came over to her and began pouring healing energy into her neck, which she hadn’t realized _ached_ terribly until now. “There are better places to take a nap than on the ground, you know.” Yuri was teasing her, but his voice betrayed a level of concern.

Suddenly, Edelgard realized that there should be demonic beasts wreaking havoc on the battlefield, and that her head didn’t hurt nearly as bad as the rest of her. “Hold on a moment. What happened to those beasts? And…” “How did you make it?” Yuri supplied the question as if it was as boring as discussing the day’s weather, but she could tell something was different in his demeanor. He sighed. “Well… Balthus caught you. Kind of. He stopped your head from smashing into the floor, at least, but he was smart enough to let your armor take most of the punishment. As for the beasts…”

\---

Ten minutes earlier, Edelgard was falling from the pegasus. Balthus sprinted towards her as she hurtled towards the ground, just barely managing to get his hands under her in time to support her head. She hit the ground with a sickening thud, but a quick once over determined she was still alive, at least. He called for a healer, and Linhardt and Lysithea ran up. The girl went paler than normal at the sight of Edelgard on the ground, but Linhardt gripped her shoulder and shook his head. In a shaky voice, he said, “I’ll do my best with her, so you worry about those monsters. Remember what we practiced?” Her eyes widened, but she nodded.

Lysithea and Balthus ran towards the beasts, joined by Claude, Caspar, and Hilda. There were still a handful of enemy soldiers trying to engage the beasts, but their ranks had been decimated. Cornelia was still clinging to life, struggling in vain to remove herself from the claw of the beast furthest away from them, so the group decided to work on the other beast first. Balthus grabbed one of the black metal axes their enemies had brought in, and he, Caspar, and Hilda slashed and smashed wildly at the beast’s flank. They made short work of the beast’s natural armor, opening up a set of wounds where its raw flesh could be seen. Claude pelted it with arrows, several striking true into its hide, and it howled in pain and rage. It was, however, too late for it to do anything.

Lysithea had been storing up magic power since they first engaged the beast. She floated upwards, taking careful aim before unleashing a barrage of holy light - Seraphim, one of the rare offensive Light magic spells. Channeling energy through the arrows was unnecessary, as Seraphim ripped through the demonic beast like it had been made of paper. It screamed out in pain, falling onto its side. Smoke rose from where it had been struck by Lysithea’s unearthly power. For good measure, Balthus swung his axe into its head, before turning to Lysithea with a big smile on his face. “Good job, little lady Ordelia! You got another one of those in you?” She nodded shakily, and the group rounded on the last beast. Claude split off, joining Ferdinand and Petra in hunting down the final few soldiers. Not five minutes later, the second beast had fallen, and the students were none the worse for wear.

\---

Yuri cleared his throat as he finished recounting the story. Edelgard was shocked - Lysithea was truly a prodigy. To be able to command not only Dark magic, but advanced Light magic too? She felt a similar sense of awe coming from Sothis. Pushing her thoughts towards the goddess, Edelgard asked “ _Are you alright, Sothis?_ ” Soft, sweet laughter was her response. “ _Oh my… You do not need to concern yourself with me. I merely used a lot of power at once, that is all. After a rest with Byleth, I shall be fully restored._ ” She nodded, planning on taking a nice rest herself soon. Fighting back-to-back in Gaspard territory and then here in Abyss was exhausting.

One question remained, though. Fixing Yuri with a look that she hoped conveyed that she was not in the mood for games, Edelgard asked “Where is the body?” Yuri shivered, which caught her off guard. When he spoke, it was softer than she’d expected. “I’m no stranger to blood and gore, but… Well, it looks like Byleth was right. She was definitely one of _them_. I’ve had Claude block the body off from the others, but… She had black blood, you know? You could see pale skin underneath her fake stuff, too. I’ll have my people round up the bodies… But Byleth should have the say in what we do with them. I’d love to study them, but she may have other uses for them.”

Edelgard said nothing. She didn’t know how she would feel, killing one of Those Who Slither finally. It felt like fear and joy were fighting to the death in her heart, and to distract herself, she attempted to stand. Linhardt clicked his tongue in frustration at her, but she pushed herself up anyway. Experimentally tensing and untensing muscles in her body let her confirm that she was, indeed, still in one piece. She looked around, in the faces of each of her classmates and comrades. They were uniformly exhausted. How were they going to manage a multiple kilometer walk after this?

Yuri seemed to be thinking the same thing, as he whistled to get everyone’s attention. With all eyes on him, he spoke in a raised voice. “Alright. You all did pretty damn good, for surfacers. As long as you don’t mess with my people, any of you are welcome in Abyss, any time. Keep an eye on your coin purses, but other than that, we’d love to see you down here. Now then… I know I said I’d get you out after we got Hapi to the safehouse, but… With Cornelia dead, we no longer have a threat to worry about. I’m gonna go ahead and get you out in pairs, and then us Wolves can finally relax. Get ready to go and I’ll come over to you.”

Turning to her, he smirked. “Hope you don’t mind the change of plans.” She shook her head. “With Cornelia eliminated, there’s no need for her to hide anymore. And besides that, we ought to get out of your hair. It was good to work with you, Yuri. You’re more competent than I had originally thought. I apologize for misjudging you.” He barked out a laugh. “Same to you. I’ll catch you around.”

As Yuri began taking the rest of her house out of Abyss, Edelgard caught Claude’s attention. On the walk over to him, Sothis spoke to her again. “ _Once you return to the surface, I will be returning to Byleth. But, I would never hear the end of it if I did not at least get you safely to bed_.” She cackled, and Edelgard fought through the vicious blush that was rising on her cheeks to respond. “ _Thank you, Sothis. I still don’t… It’s going to take me a while to really grasp who and what you are, but I am eternally grateful to have met you._ ” The diminutive goddess refused to meet her gaze, but she was smiling, and that was enough for Edelgard.

Claude’s voice snapped her out of her focus on Sothis. “So… Teach sent along the secret weapon, I take it?” Claude, as usual, was unbearably perceptive. Edelgard nodded, not wanting to meet his gaze in case he asked her-- “How many times?” She started, finally bringing herself to look into his eyes. She sighed, deeply. “Three. Two were my own carelessness, and one was Balthus.” Claude thought for a moment. “Ah. That’s when you called out Cornelia’s position, right? I thought that was fishy.” He paused, letting out a small noise of frustration. “It’s so strange having someone other than Teach act like that. It’s even more strange knowing that time was just… rewritten, and I would have been none the wiser if you hadn’t said anything. Wish _I’d_ have gotten magic goddess detection powers last time…”

“Claude…” Edelgard didn’t know how to respond to him when it came to this kind of thing. He put a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. It is what it is, after all. I came out of this with some neat tricks, myself.” He shot her a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Listen, we can debrief with Teach some other time… How about over tea? I heard you and her have been having a lot of it lately.” She refused to take the bait, and simply agreed to tea, before walking away. Finally, it was her turn to leave, and she found herself warped directly in front of her door. Bidding Yuri goodnight, Edelgard walked into her room, and began to get ready for sleep even as the sun began to peek over the horizon through her windows. She sat on her bed, and addressed Sothis one final time. “Good night, Sothis. And thank you.” Sothis nodded, then winked out of existence.

\---

It turned out that Rhea’s version of standing guard was less standing at attention with a weapon drawn, and more keeping watch from an outrageously comfortable settee. Though sleep had tried to claw at her mind, Byleth overpowered it with worry. She hadn’t felt any more Divine Pulses for a while, and she hoped that that was good news. Dawn was coming soon, and she could soon excuse herself and run to find Edelgard or Claude for a debriefing.

Suddenly, her mind felt full once more. She gasped out “Sothis!”, as the familiar feeling of the goddess’ presence permeated her again. She whispered into the predawn darkness “I’m so glad you’re back… If you have the energy, tell me everything.” Sothis appeared before her, looking around in confusion. “ _Where..? Wh-what have you been_ doing _while I was gone?!”_ Byleth started to answer, but Sothis raised a hand. “ _You fool! Rhea is near! Speak in your mind or be silent!_ ” Byleth silently apologized, then waited for Sothis to speak again.

“ _I would really rather not learn that you’ve slept with my daughter while I was busy keeping your students alive._ ” Byleth laughed softly. “ _No, no, nothing like that. I… Rhea asked me to tea last night, after Cornelia gave me the slip, and we stayed up talking for quite a while. Eventually, she asked if I would stand guard while she slept. She said she felt lonely, and I figured_ \--” “ _You figured you would sleep with her?_ ”

Byleth shook her head emphatically. “ _Sothis, please. I never touched her. She actually seemed very… vulnerable. Just wait till I tell you about our conversation._ ” Sothis flew over towards Rhea’s sleeping form, a strange look on her face. Sothis reached out her hand, but it passed through Rhea’s shoulder. She looked forlorn, so Byleth scrambled to try to cheer her up. “ _You know, she sang your song last night. Only a little bit, she’d forgotten the rest, but… I get the sense that she sings it whenever she feels overwhelmed._ ”

Sothis stared down at Rhea for a while longer, then began to quietly sing. It was absolutely the same song as before, but the words were in no language Byleth knew. There was a strange, haunting quality to it. It was a song of love, loss, and return. As Sothis reached the end, Rhea stirred, her eyes fluttering open. She stretched, and Byleth heard her sleepily call out “Mother? Is… is that you?” Sothis paused, unsure of herself. She reached out another ghostly hand, this time towards Rhea’s head, muttering to herself. Byleth caught “ _...Seiros_ ”, but that was all she could make out.

Rhea lay still for a while longer, but before long, she turned to look at Byleth. There was nothing in her expression to indicate that she’d seen or heard Sothis, and yet… Something _was_ clearly different. “Ah… Good morning, Byleth. It is good to see you. I had the most wonderful dream…” Byleth shifted around in place on the settee. “Ah? Do you want to talk about it?” Rhea giggled, a sound that Byleth had never thought to hear from her. “Yes… I dreamed of… of my mother. It was like I was there with her. I laid my head in her lap, and she sang to me, and played her harp… She sang her entire song, Byleth! I’ve remembered it, finally, after so very long…” Tears played in Rhea’s eyes as she pushed herself up onto her elbows in her bed.

“I’m so grateful to you for being here, and for talking with me last night. Because of this… because of you, I was able to remember something precious. I will never truly be able to repay your kindness.” Byleth hemmed and hawed, trying to deflect praise - it wasn’t as though _she_ was the one who sang the song. Sothis smiled down at Rhea, but eventually turned back toward Byleth. “ _Let us go, little one. We both need to rest._ ” Byleth spoke, both to Rhea and Sothis. “Er… If it’s alright, I need to go prepare. I leave with the Blue Lions at noon, so…” Rhea smiled at her. “Of course, of course. Thank you for a wonderful night and blessed morning, Byleth. Please take care in the field.” Byleth bowed, then took her leave, slipping through the slumbering monastery like a ghost. She made to go to the training grounds to shake off her drowsiness, but Sothis tugged at her mind. “ _Byleth… You need sleep. I shall appear to Flayn, and ask her to wake us a little before noon._ ” She wanted to object, but Sothis was right. She needed to have at least a little sleep if she was going to keep the Blue Lions safe, despite the trip to Ailell taking a day’s ride to get there even before the fight. She returned to her room, and fell into bed without even changing.

\---

The morning came faster than Dimitri had been expecting. There were rumblings of activity in the dining hall last night, but ever since he had heard from Ingrid that Professor Byleth was going to be taking them to battle, he had pushed all of that from his mind. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity, as far as he was concerned. Byleth was a peerless fighter, but what’s more, she was kind and caring. She had picked up on his discomfort around fire at the mock battle a couple months ago, and offered him a solution. She had taken it upon herself to help Ashe when he was no Black Eagle, and delivered an incredible solution to the issue of Lord Lonato’s rebellion. 

A gossip-hound might have said he was smitten, had they heard his thoughts as they turned to her. Perhaps there was some truth there, though he reserved more care for Marianne. That was the difference between feeling a draw toward someone, and being smitten. He shook his head, regaining his concentration.

He and the rest of the Blue Lions were in the dining hall, and though he could not taste whatever today’s breakfast was meant to be, the texture wasn’t half bad. At some point, Dorothea, from the Black Eagles, had come over to where the Blue Lions were eating, and she plopped down across from him at the table. Choking down his food, he steeled himself, then gave a shaky greeting. “Oh, good morning, Dorothea. I understand we have you to thank for getting Professor Byleth to lead us in battle. I appreciate it - Ingrid has been distressed over this for a while, and to be able to provide her relief is a precious gift.” He bowed to her, although he had forgotten he was sitting, and he nearly dipped his hair into his food with the action.

Dorothea, at least, had the manners not to laugh. Rather, she smiled at him. “It’s not often I’d go out of my way to help a bunch of nobles, but my dear Ing is an entirely different story. I’m just glad the Professor said yes.” Dimitri was puzzled - did Dorothea have some grudge toward nobility? He supposed that made sense - a lot of nobles did appalling things, and if even half of what he’d heard rumors about in the Empire was true, there was plenty of reason for a commoner like her to feel like that. Rather than put his foot in his mouth by talking about the divide between classes to someone who had already stated she was out of her element, he decided to ask about Byleth.

“Speaking of the Professor, where is she? I don’t know if I’ve ever seen her skip a meal. I hope she is not feeling unwell…” His brow furrowed - she had been running around like mad when he caught sight of her yesterday, and that was just a day after returning from Gaspard. Dorothea shook her head, though, which was a relief to him. “She had some business to take care of last night, I’m afraid. Most of my class did, actually. I think they’re all sleeping it off, but she’ll be there to meet us. Don’t you worry.”

Dimitri smiled. “Ah. That’s good to hear. She seems the type to burn her candle at both ends, but… even so, I greatly appreciate what she’s doing for us, and for Ingrid. We’ll just have to ensure that this whole affair goes smoothly, so she has time to actually recover for once.” With a start, he heard the bell toll nine. “Ah, apologies, Dorothea. I, um, need to go. I’ll talk to you soon, though.” Dorothea smirked at him, and he got the distinct impression that she knew where he was going. Still… It didn’t trouble him. She was obviously a good person, and good people could be trusted.

He wound his way over to the gardens, searching for a secluded bench that he’d scoped out previously - aha, there it was! And there she was, too. Dimitri walked over nervously, smiling down at Marianne, who was seated on the bench listening to the morning bird songs. “Ah… Hello, Dimitri.” Her small voice lifted him up every time he heard it. “Good morning, Marianne. It’s good to see you.” She gave him a small smile - though for her, that was like jumping up into an embrace. He motioned to the bench, asking “May I join you?” She nodded, still smiling, and scooted over to one side.

The two sat in silence for a time, enjoying the sounds of the monastery and each other’s company. Then, finally, Dimitri broke the silence. “I’m afraid I won’t be able to visit Dorte with you today. A mission has come up.” She looked at him, eyes widening slightly in a response he had come to find meant alarm. “It’s nothing major… A wicked man is trying to marry Ingrid for her Crest, and Dorothea Arnault and Professor Byleth are coming with us to confront him. He leads a mercenary company, but with Professor Byleth, I have no doubt that we will return safely. It…” His face fell, and he felt a small hand on his forearm.

“What is it, Dimitri?” Her concern was etched on her face, and Dimitri had to work to master himself - he wanted to lie and tell her it was nothing to be worried about, but he refused to lie to her. “I… Do you recall that I have… difficulty around fire?” She nodded, and he swallowed hard. “The mercenaries we’re going after are based in and around Ailell, the Valley of Torment. It is a place where fires burn constantly, and the very ground is scorched and hot to the touch. I would do anything for my friends, of course, but this… I admit, I am nervous. Every time I think about it, my… hands go numb. I feel as though my heart will burst from my chest. I can calm down if I do the breathing exercise that Professor Manuela taught me, but…”

“Here.” She adjusted to face him directly on the bench, and raised her hands to his temples. Soothing coolness began to flow into him, and he closed his eyes. The pain and fear began to recede, and he gasped with relief. “M-Marianne… You’re so gifted in the healing arts. I wish… Sometimes I wish that I could be more like you, you know that?” She blushed and looked downwards, but smiled at him.

\---

Excited knocking woke Byleth from one of the deepest sleeps of her life. Flayn’s voice drifted through the door, her smile somehow audible. “Professor! Are you awake yet? I have come to fetch you, as requested! Oh! May I come in?” Grumbling, Byleth pushed herself up onto her elbows, and growled out “Sure, Flayn…” The door opened and closed quickly, and she was soon set upon by the green-haired girl, who had jumped onto her bed. “Oh Professor! I’m so glad to see you again. It was incredible to be a part of our meeting, too! Imagine! I am some kind of secret agent now, am I not?” She giggled, delighted with herself. Byleth quickly cast Muffling around her room so that Flayn’s excitability wouldn’t give them away.

Sothis appeared, looking far better than Byleth felt. Flayn squealed with delight at her, shouting “Grandmother! Hello! It’s wonderful to see you again!” Sothis laughed, and the two of them began to chat (or rather, Sothis got a word in here or there as Flayn talked at triple speed). Byleth stumbled out of bed, changed into a fresh set of clothes, and ran a brush through her hair. She looked at herself in the mirror - dark circles under her eyes betrayed her lack of sleep, but she would just have to push through. She belted on her steel blade, rolling her shoulders and stretching. Finally, she turned back to Flayn. “So, how much time do we have?”

Flayn paused in thought, then said “I believe we have nearly half an hour. I tried to give you as much time to wake up and refresh yourself as I could without cutting into your sleep. Grandmother told me that you were awake with Auntie all night! That’s not good for your health, Professor!” Byleth shot a glare at Sothis, who giggled at the mischief she had caused. “Neither is battle, Flayn. Now, would you like to join me for a quick lunch?” Flayn’s eyes practically sparkled as she said yes, and the three of them made their way over to the dining hall.

\---

Noon came quicker than Dimitri would have liked. He excused himself from the Knights he’d been speaking to - apparently Cornelia Arnim was at the monastery, but he’d yet to run into her - and made his way over to the stables. The rest of the Blue Lions filtered in quickly thereafter, followed by Byleth, who looked exhausted, Dorothea, who looked amused, and… Flayn? Flayn looked exuberant as always, but Dimitri was unsure why she was there. She begged her leave and ran through the stables beaming from ear to ear, presumably. She always wore her hair down in such a way that her ears were covered, but Dimitri assumed that the expression would still work even if he couldn’t see them for himself.

Professor Hanneman arrived next, with Ingrid in tow. Everyone looked surprised, but Felix had the nerve to look disappointed. He knew that his acerbic friend had been looking forward to learning from Byleth directly, but to be so rude to their actual professor was too far. He would need to remember to talk to Felix about this behavior later. Byleth instructed them to all saddle up, and explained that Professor Hanneman was coming along to ensure their safety on the mission. That made sense. Soon, they were on the road, traveling toward Daphnel territory in the Alliance.

They made good time that day, and their group ended up staying the night at an inn in the eastern portion of Daphnel. If they left at dawn, they would arrive at Ailell by mid-morning, though the going would get rougher as they began to run into super-heated ground and the ever-burning flames. 

The Blue Lions had separated out into several rooms, and Dimitri, Dedue, and Sylvain found themselves all sharing a room. Thinking about the battle to come, Dimitri began to worry, and tossed and turned in his bed. Not wanting to wake Dedue and Sylvain, he slipped quietly out into the main room. He put his head in his hands, and attempted without success to replicate the healing feat Marianne had tried to explain how to do when he met her earlier that morning. Even though his meetings with Manuela had quieted his ghosts a great deal, he wanted to be sure that they would not try to haunt him during tomorrow’s battle.

Suddenly a voice spoke up from behind him. “It doesn’t work if you use it on yourself, you know.” He whirled around to find Byleth leaning against a wall, concern on her face. “Ah… Professor. I’m sorry, I know I should be asleep, but…” He hung his head. A small, warm hand pressed onto his shoulder, and he looked up - Byleth had gotten closer without him even hearing her move. The beginning of a blush formed on his face. “It’s fine, Dimitri. Nerves before something like this are natural. Even from a leader.” Her face was so earnest as she said it, he couldn’t help but believe her.

They were silent for a while longer, before Dimitri spoke up. “I cannot stand to be in combat near fire any longer. It makes me… I feel... “ He sighed. “It reminds me of what I experienced in the Tragedy of Duscur. It almost feels as though I am back there, watching, helplessly…”

Byleth put her hands to his temples, and he gasped as he realized that she was going to attempt to do what Marianne had done. He waited for the familiar sensation, but it didn’t come, and he looked up at her. She looked pensive, as if she was listening to advice from someone else. Then, she fixed her eyes on him. “Dimitri… Would you be willing to try something that I think could help?” He looked at her in confusion, but eventually nodded. 

She pulled a chair in front of him, and sat down, her fingers still on his temples. “This is something that our healer would use when a mercenary got overwhelmed from battle. I’ve talked about it with Manuela before, and she agreed that it was a really useful technique. I’m going to apply healing to you, and while I do, I want you to tell me about the Tragedy. Don’t skip over anything unless you absolutely have to, but don’t dwell on any details for longer than you need to tell the story. By the end of it, you’ll feel a little better. Sound good?”

Dimitri breathed in deeply. “Truthfully? No. But… I trust Manuela, and I trust you. If you think it would help… I am willing to try it.” He gasped as healing energy seeped into him, filling his mind with a comforting presence. It felt different than Marianne’s. Her energy was… not hesitant, but more slow and methodical, and felt like slipping into a cool stream on a hot day. Byleth’s energy was vibrant, full of light and life, and it made him feel as if his very soul was warming. “Whenever you’re ready, Dimitri.” He shut his eyes, letting the healing balm wash over him. Finally, he began.

“It was… four years ago. Father, step-mother, and I, along with a host of knights, my friend Glenn among them, were travelling into the region of Duscur to meet with some of the leaders of their people. It was meant to be for diplomatic talks… I was in the carriage with Father, and step-mother had her ladies-in-waiting in a second carriage. Glenn sat next to our driver - he was my assigned knight. The firstborn sons of the Fraldarius family have long been the sworn protectors of the kings of House Blaiddyd, you see. Glenn was mine, as his father Rodrigue was to my father, King Lambert. Anyway… We were coming close to a village, when a fallen log blocked the road. The terrain in that area was mountainous, so we were halted without recourse. As the drivers and knights tried to turn the caravan around, we…”

“It’s alright, Dimitri. Go at your pace.” He nodded, keeping his eyes closed.

“We were attacked. There were soldiers, dressed all in black. They bore strange weapons, and their mages burned down everything in sight… When Father and I got out of our carriage, it exploded into flames, and sent us flying. Glenn was injured, but still ran over to try to protect me. We weren’t armed beyond simple ceremonial weapons, and the knights were quickly overwhelmed by the ambush. Glenn fought like a man possessed, but eventually he was struck by dark magic. There were… There were mages there, wearing dark masks shaped like beaks. Like what people wore during the Great Plague years earlier, but… There was no reason for them to be there. They weren’t Duscurians, Professor, you must believe me!”

Byleth increased the flow of healing energy. Dimitri sighed in relief. “I do believe you, Dimtri. What happened next?”

“We… Father was struck down by one of the masked ones. He screamed up at me, pleading for me to run, to live… To avenge him and my step-mother. Glenn grabbed me by the arm to run, but I looked back, and… I watched as Father was beheaded.” Even more healing energy rushed in, causing Dimitri to sigh and drop his shoulders. “We ran through the bodies and the flames, the smoke choking us. The cries of the damned could not compare to what I heard from the knights that day… I finally caught sight of my step-mother, but… She looked at me, pity in her eyes, and walked into the flames. I… I…” Byleth began to hum a slow, lilting song, and the healing energy shifted from warm to cool.

“We had nearly managed to escape, when Glenn and I were struck by another spell. His body landed on top of mine, and… I could see his leg, lying in front of us. He cried out, and… He took my face in his hands. He begged me to play dead, to survive… He covered my body with his, and I felt as they mercilessly struck at him once they found him at the edge of the massacre. I lay there, still as I could, for hours… perhaps days? Time became immaterial. Eventually, the heat left, and rains came. The rain was cold, and by the time more knights arrived on the scene, I was nearly lost. My father’s knight, a man named Gustave, found me, clinging to Glenn’s body, and brought me back to Fhirdiad. Thus, I was the only survivor. But… I did not truly return from Duscur. What I have become since then is unlike what I was before… I have become a monster. Felix speaks of it often, and I cannot blame him. It is because of me that his brother was taken from him, after all. I can only live in hope that some day, I will find those responsible… And tear them apart.”

Byleth continued to pour healing energy in, gradually lessening the amount until it was barely a trickle. “Listen to me well, Dimitri.” He opened his eyes, shocked to find that tears had been streaking down his face, and looked up into her eyes. “You are not a monster. You are a man who has endured unimaginable suffering, and lived. You are a survivor, not a monster. Your desire for vengeance is natural. It sustained you through hard times. But, it is not, ultimately, all of who you are.”

“You are a good person, with a good heart. Good people often want revenge, and even seek it. The only way you could be a monster would be to forsake the goodness I know lives in you, and to forsake the love of your friends.” She finally released her magic, and Dimitri nearly toppled forward, until she caught him in an embrace.

“You are more than the Tragedy. You are Dimitri.” He sobbed, overcome. The two of them stayed like that for several minutes, as Dimtri let out tears that he did not know he could still shed. Finally, Byleth let him go, and he straightened back up in his seat.

“...thank you, Professor. I don’t know how to adequately express what this meant to me, but… thank you.” She smiled, and nodded. “I don’t want to give you false hope - you will likely still fear fire after this, and it will take time for you to work through the powerful feelings you have surrounding the Tragedy. But I have every confidence that you can do it, and you don’t have to do it alone. Your friends in the Blue Lions are here for you. Your professors, myself included, are here for you. A certain Golden Deer is there for you, too.” She smiled wider. “You don’t have to do this by yourself, Dimitri. Never forget that.”

He nodded, slowly. “I… I won’t, Professor.”

\---

After her unexpected talk with Dimitri during the night, Byleth rose before dawn once again exhausted. It had been good - hopefully this would help Dimitri to keep his mind from breaking this time. She had meant to make sure he was speaking to Manuela, but she’d gotten so busy already that it had slipped her mind. But then, since he didn’t mention the ghosts, perhaps he was already seeing her? Not that she would ever tell - keeping patients’ secrets was one rule Manuela was actually fastidious about. She yawned deeply as the Lions began to file out into the common room of the inn.

“Well, everyone, I hope you were able to get a little rest. We’ll take breakfast here, then get underway. Before we eat, though, I wanted to go over what to expect. First and foremost, this is not a combat mission.” Felix looked disappointed, but the rest murmured positively. “That isn’t to say we won’t fight if it comes to that, and I think there’s actually a decent chance of that happening, but the planned part of this mission will be gathering intelligence. What we need is some sort of proof of illicit activities, which shouldn’t be very hard to get considering Taggart’s reputation.” Confusion on most of their faces reflected that they didn’t even know who they were here for. “Ah, right. The bastard - sorry Hanneman - that we’re after is named Taggart. He’s known for taking any job no matter how despicable it is, and this latest merchant ploy of his is a laughable scramble for legitimacy. Once we have our proof, we can take that to Count Galatea and send Taggart packing. Of course... He’s very unlikely to make it easy on us.”

She paced in front of the fireplace, hands clasped behind her back. “If it comes to combat, we’ll be fighting in some of the worst conditions any of us are likely to ever experience. Ailell, the Valley of Torment… It’s not a fun place to be. It’s obscenely hot, and for those of you from northern Faerghus it’s going to be even worse. Keep yourselves hydrated, and cut down on any fancy moves you might have been working on. In the heat, you want to keep things simple and utilitarian.”

A beat.

“One final word. We’re all here for Ingrid, but I want you all to know that Professor Hanneman and I are here for you. I know I speak for him as well when I say this, but: I will not let a single one of you fall here. Now, eat up. We move as soon as we’re ready!”

\---

As their party got back on the road, Dimitri’s thoughts turned to Byleth. The woman was incredible, but a complete mystery to him. How she could go from a comforting healer to a hardened veteran who spoke with the confidence of one like Margrave Gautier without either seeming like an affectation was beyond him, but it was truly incredible. The rest of the Lions must have thought the same, as he caught fragments of conversations about her floating on the wind. Even Sylvain was impressed, to the point where he wasn’t even actively flirting with her constantly. 

They made good time, and as the air began to get blisteringly hot, Byleth announced that they’d arrived. She led them off the main trail into some wilder country, and they took shelter under a bluff. Byleth and Felix crept forward on foot, and the Lions waited on pins and needles to see what would become of them. 

Sylvain led his horse over to Dimitri while they were waiting, and began looking at him strangely. “Whoa, wait a minute. You look like you actually slept some, Your Highness! That’s great! I, er… that is, we, were worried about you for a minute there. You were on edge the whole way into Daphnel…” Dimitri looked at him in surprise - had it really shown how much lighter he felt? 

“I… I did, yes. I feel much better than I have in a long time.” Dimitri smiled sheepishly as he admitted this - though Sylvain was his friend, they had never really spoken of how Dimitri was actually faring since before the Tragedy. Sylvain smiled wide, and clapped him on the shoulder. “That’s so good to hear. We’ve been worried about you for a while, so… Seeing you looking better like you do is a breath of fresh air, as far as I’m concerned.” Dimitri returned his smile, and caught Ingrid looking over at them incredulously. He waved her over, and she trotted her pegasus towards them with that same look still on her face.

“Do I seem so different, truly?”, he asked the both of them. Sylvain and Ingrid exchanged glances, then looked away. Ingrid spoke up, though, to Sylvain’s apparent relief. “Well… Yes, Your Highness. You look happier, and lighter… I’m so glad you were able to get some rest.” He rubbed the back of his head, embarrassed but touched at the concern his friends were showing.

“Yes… Well, it wasn’t all down to sleep. Last night, I… I spoke to Professor Byleth.” Ingrid’s eyebrows flew up, and she looked at Sylvain in some unspoken communication he wasn’t privy to. The message was evidently received as Sylvain nodded. He spoke next. “It seems to have helped a lot. Was it… was it about Duscur?” Dimitri nodded. “I have never told anyone besides her the full story. She used a healing technique while I did so, and… While it still pains my heart to even think about the events of that day, I was able to tell her the whole story, and not be swallowed up by it. I…” He looked down, unsure of himself.

“Some day soon, if the two of you wouldn’t mind… I would like to tell it to you, as well.” Ingrid put her hand to her mouth, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. Sylvain looked stunned, but broke out in a grin. “Of course! Any time you want to, absolutely. I know we…” He looked at Ingrid and frowned. “I know we weren’t really there for you afterwards. It was a hard time, and we were all hurting, but… That’s no excuse for how we handled it.” Ingrid nodded. “To be able to be here for you now isn’t going to make up for it either, but to even have the chance is… is so relieving.”

Dimitri looked between the two of them and smiled warmly. “My friends… I’m glad to hear how much you care. But, if I may… I have a request.” The two of them looked up at him expectantly. “I know that you care about propriety, Ingrid, but… I’d like for the two of you to simply call me ‘Dimitri’ sometimes. You can still say ‘Your Highness’ of course, but… It’s been a long time since I’ve heard my name from either of you, or from Felix.” The two of them nodded, but before they could continue the conversation, Byleth and Felix appeared out of a column of light.

Byleth shouted to the Lions: “Form up! It’s a fight!”

\---

The fight itself was fairly simple, all things considered. The heat was oppressive, and the Blue Lions were obviously suffering from it, but they were one and all determined to help Ingrid. Their combat skills were better than she had expected from Hanneman, as well, and to top it off, these mercenaries were a joke. 

Ashe’s marksmanship rivaled Bernadetta’s easily, and Byleth decided to stick him close to Dedue up on a ridge. After one of Taggart’s idiot mercenaries shouted at them to “give us the girl!”, Dimitri, Sylvain, Felix, and Dorothea formed up on Ingrid, and the five of them carved through the mercenaries like a hot knife through butter. Felix and Sylvain were especially on point, fighting with cold fury. Dimitri was still a little unnerved by the flames, but he was pushing through it for Ingrid’s sake. Dorothea was far more confident with her spells than Byleth had last seen, which gave her no end of joy. She seemed especially fond of Thunder magic, and Byleth made a mental note to try to find her a levin sword when she was at Anna’s stall next. Hanneman took Annette and Mercedes up to the ridge with Ashe and Dedue, and the four ranged fighters began to rain down a torrent of spells and arrows. Dedue didn’t see much combat, but that was for the best anyway since he was boiling in his plate armor.

Byleth decided it was time to cut loose a little, and she blasted a path clear towards Taggart with Aura. Running up to him proved to be a smart move, as he backed off of the defensive position he’d been in out of fear. As he screamed about the Ashen Demon coming to kill him, his men started deserting. Not even half an hour after they’d started fighting, they had cornered Taggart, finished off all his men who hadn’t run, and kept Ingrid safe. The Lions approached him, bad intentions in every eye.

Byleth tapped the pommel of her blade. “Well, Ingrid? What do you want to do with him? This fight was a joke, so it’s not like he’s even all that dangerous, but… It’s still your call.” Ingrid looked at him for a moment, then spat at his feet. “I know it isn’t the honorable, knightly thing to do, but… After seeing what kind of a monster he is, I don’t think he deserves to live. He’ll only hurt more people if we let him go.” Byleth nodded, drawing her blade. “I have enough blood on my hands already, so I don’t mind a little more. Or you can do it, if you prefer.” Ingrid looked at the captive mercenary, then at Byleth, then at Dimitri… Then nodded, gripping her lance tighter. “I’ll do this myself.” She strode forward, pierced Taggart through the heart, and pushed him back off of her lance.

The Blue Lions were silent for a moment, before Sylvain put a hand on Ingrid’s shoulder. He cracked a smile, and said “Good work. Now, let’s get the hell out of here, shall we?” She nodded, and the Lions pushed through Ailell to the other side of the valley. They’d emerged, as planned, in Galatea territory, right around midday. A few hours of travel saw them to the manor of House Galatea, where Ingrid’s father welcomed them all with open arms. He was surprised to see them, but after Byleth and Ingrid explained the situation, and handed over the documents that they had collected from Taggart’s base, he grew silent.

He excused himself, and returned a few minutes later cradling Luin, the Heroes’ Relic of Daphnel. He held it tightly, then presented it to Ingrid, who was stunned into silence. His voice was shaky as he spoke to her. “Ingrid… I’m so sorry that you went through what you did with this vile man. The blame lies at my feet… I hope that you can forgive me. I also think that it’s time that I passed on our family’s treasure to you. Use it to protect yourself from here on out - it’s far better that it sees use protecting my precious daughter, than gathering dust in our vault.” Byleth coughed loudly, and signaled the rest of the Lions to leave the two of them to talk. She rejoined them at dinner, with a wide smile on her face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a little later than I intended because I woke up with an idea for a different fic, and ended up writing about ten pages of that. It's going on the back burner for a while though. Also damn, it's the 20th of December officially now. Happy birthday Dima
> 
> There was so much character stuff in this half of the chapter too. I almost feel bad because of how short the "action" scene was at the end, but it's fitting. This paralogue in game is baby time, with the exception of the surprise reinforcements that show up near the Arrive goal. But I didn't want to give them the satisfaction of existing in something that's meant to be the ideal route - surprise reinforcements are just a bad dream, shhhhhhh....
> 
> I want to be clear about two things here. One - Dimitri is not cured! It's gonna take a while for that, and he's still going to have some struggles. But between this and going to see Manuela (which we'll see from his POV eventually), Dimitri is off of the worst path, at least. Two - I based Byleth's technique here off of EMDR. I'm in a graduate counseling program IRL, and even after learning about EMDR and seeing it work, I still couldn't tell you why it works. It's fucking magic, and thus translates well to a universe with actual magic. It's not exactly the same, of course, but it's close enough that I felt I should explain in case anyone was curious. Byleth is more of a directive counselor than I am, but she's also a mercenary and pseudo-immortal. So... 
> 
> Flayn is a joy to write every time she comes up. Her "secret agent" line is a reference to her Forging Bonds conversations in Fire Emblem Heroes, which were fantastic.
> 
> Next time... Back to the main plot, eventually. Do y'all realize we haven't even gotten to the Sword of the Creator yet?
> 
> Edited 01/02/21 for consistency and quality.


	20. Blue Sea Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Blue Lions make their way back to the monastery, Byleth catches up with Edelgard and Claude, and the Ashen Wolves join the Black Eagles.

The Blue Lions were looking to make it back to Garreg Mach the evening of the second day after their skirmish at Ailell (which they had long since stopped calling a battle). They likely could have made it back faster than that, but Ingrid’s father insisted they stay overnight at the Galatea manor, which they had all accepted since it meant they could avoid camping or paying for another night at an inn. Byleth had had _worse_ nights of sleep before, but with space in the manor limited, she had to room with Annette and Mercedes, and the guest beds were decidedly bad. Ingrid had initially said Dorothea was welcome to stay in her room, but she returned some time in the early hours of the morning, sliding down the wall next to the door with a forlorn look on her face.

Blyeth crossed the room over to where Dorothea sat, and sat next to her. Dorothea threw her arms around Byleth’s neck and began to sob quietly. Byleth stroked her hair for a while, waiting for the sobs to slow and mellow. Finally she saw her opportunity, and spoke, low and slow so that they wouldn’t wake the other two girls. “Did you and Ingrid have a fight?” Dorothea looked up at her in shock, but nodded. “I… I wasn’t even trying to _do_ anything… Just friendly flirting. She… She didn’t…” She took a shuddering breath before continuing. “She rejected me so hard. It… I couldn’t stay in the room with her after that. I’m sorry, Professor. I know you keep not sleeping at night because of all of us, but…” Byleth shushed her.

“I’m your teacher. That means I look out for you. Don’t worry about me right now, though.” She paused, thinking. “Do you want empathy, logic, a little of both, or just to cry it out? Any of them is fine with me.” Dorothea laughed sadly, shaking her head. “Leave it to you to joke right now… The latter two, if you don’t mind.” She nodded, and silently sought support from Sothis.

“Well… Logic first. It’s hard for me to say, not knowing her well, but Ingrid might have shut you down as hard as she did because she’s only used to flirting coming from Sylvain. And we all know how she handles _that_.” Images of Sylvain getting a sharp elbow in the stomach flashed in her mind. “That doesn’t mean it was the right way for her to act, but you might have gotten something not meant for you.”

“Still, though… It’s hard enough being rejected, but…” Byleth sighed. “There was a girl that I had feelings for, once. You wouldn’t know her. She was the first one I felt that way about, actually, which surprised me. I didn’t know until then that I could think about other women like that. I don’t want to make this about me, of course, but it hurt a lot. It’s because of that that I know how much you’re hurting. You care about Ingrid, obviously, and it’s not my place to know if it actually goes or went beyond friendship for you or not. To have someone react like that to you… Hurts. But, the good news is, you’re not alone. Literally or figuratively.”

Dorothea gave her a confused look, which made Byleth chuckle. “Truthfully, I don’t think anyone in our house is straight. Maybe Bernie, but it’s hard to tell with her, you know? All of us can relate to what you’re feeling, though, which means that you don’t have to try to heal up by yourself. We’re a mess, the Black Eagles… But that’s part of why I like our house so much.”

Dorothea smiled at that, and nodded. “Now then…” Byleth cast an eye around the room, but there wasn’t even anything to make a pallet on the floor with. She sighed. “I hope you don’t mind, but there’s only one other bed that doesn’t already have people in it, and it’s… not the best. You can feel whatever you need to feel up there instead of hunched over on the floor, but try to get a little rest, at least. I’ll be right there if you need anything.” The two of them settled in, Dorothea still sniffling occasionally. Dawn came bright and early, and as they bid Count Galatea farewell, she could tell by everyone’s faces that they had all had a rough night of sleep.

Their journey was mercifully uneventful. Everyone seemed in better spirits the closer they got to Garreg Mach, though Dorothea had been resolutely avoiding getting too close to Ingrid the whole time. She caught the pegasus knight staring over at them a few times, and as they began their ascent up the mountain pass on the northern side of Garreg Mach, Byleth motioned for Dorothea to pull up closer. Their horses side by side, Byleth spoke low again. “For what it’s worth, I think Ingrid might feel badly for how she reacted. If you talk to her again, it could still hurt you, but you might be able to salvage your friendship, if you want that. I’m not going to tell you what’s the right choice, though. That’s your decision.” Dorothea nodded, and they rode in silence until they finally saw the gates. They were home again.

As they deposited their horses at the stables, and she took leave of the Blue Lions, Byleth was overcome with weariness. Being on the go non-stop for several days in a row was exhausting - even during the war, it had only ever been that bad at the very end, when whatever army she was with had to press its advantage. She rounded the corner, looking to cut through the gardens to get back to her quarters faster, when she was spotted by Claude. He sauntered over, his usual smirk in place.

“Hey there, Teach. Welcome back. Did you have fun playing with the Lions?” He chuckled to himself, but she nodded. “They’re good kids. A lot of strong feelings that they don’t talk about, but I like them. Always have.” Claude nodded, but his mind was obviously elsewhere. They walked along in silence for a while, until Byleth finally asked him what he was doing. He grinned.

“Well, the Princess and I made a deal after our fight down in Abyss that we’d have tea with you to debrief. Tomorrow’s, what… the 9th? You have any plans for after class, or…?” Byleth quickly consulted her mental calendar. “Hmm… It’s Balthus’ birthday, so I’ll need to do something for him, but… I can grab him for lunch. Sure. After class would work fine. I’m assuming we’re meeting somewhere private?” He nodded, the smile finally fading. “Wouldn’t want to talk about some of this in the open, anyway. Your room, then?” She hummed. “I’ll need you to bring a second pot, though. Two bergamot drinkers to one Almyran pine needle drinker means we’re using my big one for bergamot. But, I’ll spot you the needles at least.” 

Byleth finally made it back to her room and her blessedly soft bed (by comparison, at least). She sighed deeply as she laid down, looking over at Sothis, who had appeared next to her. She fidgeted for a moment, then asked “Do you think I handled that well, with Dorothea?” Sothis hummed for a moment, before turning to face her. “ _I think you did the best you could. Dorothea has always been strong, and I believe she will bounce back quickly… Though, situations like that were never my strength anyway. But… that story you told. Wasn’t it her..?_ ” Byleth grimaced. “Yeah. It was Ingrid back then for me, too. Poor thing...” They talked for a while longer about nothing important, then laid next to each other in silence. As her consciousness flickered, Byleth could have sworn she heard Sothis’ song lulling her closer and closer to sleep, until she at last surrendered.

\---

The day passed quickly. Byleth was making up for lost class time with a barrage of lessons to make sure everyone was hitting their targets for intermediate class exams. They would need the extra power to make sure everyone got through the battle at the end of the month without getting hurt. Truthfully, they were all doing well enough, but she’d need to push a few of them to make a choice on their intermediate class. They finally got the list settled in the early afternoon. 

Edelgard, despite having already passed her certification for armored knight, was set to train and study for the lord certification at Byleth’s insistence. The other two house leaders would show up for the Battle of the Eagle and Lion as lords, as tradition dictated, so there was nothing for it. She was also to undergo private tutoring in magic - Byleth knew she had incredible potential for Dark magic and no small talent for Fire magic, but she also wanted all of her kids to at least learn basic healing if they had even a shred of magical talent. This was easier said than done, as Edelgard and Hubert had understandable resistances to learning when she called it “Faith magic”, but Byleth pivoting to calling it all White magic or Light magic had begun to erode that resistance.

Ferdinand had already passed his cavalier exam before they went to Gaspard, but he’d not had a chance to use his horse in their battle in Abyss, and Byleth knew he wouldn’t be able to in the Holy Mausoleum either. She pushed him to spend time learning the sword as a mercenary this moon - while not strictly a requirement for paladins in Fodlan, she knew she could appeal to his noble sensibilities with tales of gallant knights charging into battle with sword and spear. Eventually, she wanted him to work on his own White magic skills to become a holy knight, but master certifications were several months off at the absolute earliest.

Hubert had the skills necessary for dark mage certification since he arrived at the monastery, but Byleth was only able to secure the exam for him starting in this moon. While waiting on that exam to come available, she planned to utilize his lance skills, coaching him on the basics of cavalier. Dorothea and Lysithea had surprised her by taking the initiative to meet and exceed the requirements for both mage and priest, and she was tempted to start them toward advanced classes early. 

The rest fell into simple targets - Caspar wanted brawler certification, Linhardt priest certification, Bernadetta archer certification, and Petra thief certification. She’d had to explain to Petra that it was simply referring to the style of combat, and that any fighter with a build like hers would excel as the thief’s advanced counterpart, the assassin, but she eventually took to her new path with gusto. With only fourteen more days of in-class time before the Rite of Rebirth, she was going to have to move fast to get everyone where they needed to be.

As class ended, Edelgard stayed behind. She had been watching Byleth carefully all morning, evidently concerned for her health. As everyone else filed out, she came forward. “My teacher. It’s… good to see you up and about. I heard that you weren’t sleeping during your outing with the Blue Lions?” Byleth grimaced - Dorothea had ratted her out, evidently, but she nodded, trying to play it off. “There were things I needed to take care of at night every night we were out there. I don’t regret it, even if I am still a little tired.” Edelgard huffed, but said nothing. 

As Byleth gathered up all her materials, she looked down at her notebook. “Ah… Before we go to meet Claude, I really ought to update this…” Edelgard looked puzzled, and came closer as Byleth flipped to her lists. She heard a sharp inhale from Edelgard, but she had the self-control not to say anything aloud. Byleth grabbed a quill, adding two new names, scratching through entries, and writing little notes.

Events

  * ~~The first mock battle~~ (victory)
  * ~~The assault on Kostas’ group at Zanado~~
  * _~~Lord Lonato’s rebellion*~~_ (saved)
  * The attack on the Holy Mausoleum
  * The Miklan incident
  * _Flayn’s kidnapping*_
  * The Battle of the Eagle and Lion
  * _The Remire calamity*_
  * Jeralt’s death*
  * Apotheosis in the Sealed Forest
  * The battle in the Holy Tomb
  * The Battle of Garreg Mach
  * Five year sleep



Acceptable Casualties

  * ~~Kostas~~ (talked)
  * Miklan
  * Metodey
  * Solon
  * Kronya
  * Thales
  * Any Agarthan who fights back
  * Rhea*
  * The Black Knight
  * ~~Cornelia~~



Edelgard shot her a worried look. “What does this mean?” Byleth sighed. “It’s… how events normally play out. I wrote it out on my second day here, and emphasized things I was going to try to change if I could. That was before things went as differently as they have, you understand.” She snapped the notebook shut with finality. “We can talk about it some time if you really want, but not here.” Then, softening her voice, she asked “Are you ready to go? I’m going to put on some bergamot while we wait for Claude.” Violet eyes still watched her carefully, but eventually Edelgard nodded, and the two of them went to Byleth’s room.

Byleth busied herself with the teapot, leaving Edelgard to fidget nervously at the table. She groaned as she sat down - was Edelgard injured during their fight in Abyss? Just then, Sothis appeared, and she gave Edelgard a warm smile. “ _Hello again, Edelgard. I have some interesting gossip, if you’d like--_ ” Byleth cut her off with a growl, which made Sothis cackle as she flew over to her. “ _Oh come on, surely we can at least talk about Dimitri? She has a right to know, given…_ ” Byleth’s eyes flashed in warning, and Sothis actually quieted down this time, realizing she’d gone too far. It was too late, though. Edelgard looked at her warily. “What did she mean, Professor? Given what?”

Byleth sighed, and sat down on the bed, motioning for Edelgard to join her. “How much do you remember about your childhood? Specifically around the time of the Insurrection of the Seven.” Edelgard cocked her head in confusion, but thought silently for a time. 

“I… don’t remember much from that time. It was right before I was imprisoned, and… It’s hard to think back that far. I know that I lived for a time in the Kingdom - is that what you’re referring to?” She looked up with genuine confusion in her eyes, and Byleth nearly melted on the spot, overcome with compassion. “This… This isn’t really my place to tell you, but if you don’t remember, you don’t remember. When Thales took you to the Kingdom, it wasn’t just you that he brought there. He took your mother as well, but neither of you knew that the other was there. I don’t know how it happened, but it ended up that she married King Lambert, and stayed in the Kingdom after you left. So, you and Dimitri are technically step-siblings, but… The thing is, the two of you actually met while you were there.”

Edelgard’s eyes were wide as could be, and she was shaking slightly. Byleth put an arm over her shoulder, and continued speaking, slowly, watching Edelgard in case she needed some sort of mental healing in addition to the physical healing she planned on giving her once their tea was over. “Neither you nor Dimitri knew who the other was, exactly. The two of you became fast friends, though. If I remember right, you even taught him how to dance. He called your teaching ‘strict, to put it nicely’. The two of you were even close enough for him to--” Edelgard gasped. “So _that_ is why he acted so familiar towards me when we first met here!” She looked up at Byleth, though whether she was excited or agitated, Byleth couldn’t tell.

“When we first met at Garreg Mach, before term started, he came up and started speaking to me as if we had known one another for years. The way he spoke was so overly familiar, and I felt insulted. It seemed like he was belittling me, and then he… He called me ‘El’, which made me furious! I only allow those who are close to me call me that. I…” She paused, suddenly blushing. “...you could call me that, if… if you wanted. I wouldn’t mind it from you.”

Byleth felt a blush starting on her own face, but she laughed to diffuse the tension. “Only if you start calling me Byleth or By, Edelgard. If you can get past your propriety, I’ll do the same.” Sothis gave her a withering look, but Byleth ignored her. She didn’t realize until then how close she and Edelgard were sitting, and her blush intensified significantly.

The two of them said nothing for a bit, feeling embarrassed. Then, Edelgard broke the silence. “I… Why did Mother never find me in the Kingdom?” Byleth sighed, and squeezed Edelgard’s shoulder softly. “Thales was keeping the two of you apart, from what I understand, though she eventually was convinced by Cornelia that it was _actually_ King Lambert who kept the two of you apart. She… There’s more to her story in the Kingdom than you _or_ Dimitri knows yet, but… I think you should connect with him and learn about her time there from him first.”

Just then, there was a sharp knock at the door, and Claude’s voice drifted through. “Hey Teach, you in there? Hope I’m not interrupting anything.” She could hear the smirk on his face. The two of them got up, Edelgard returning to the table and Byleth moving to the door to let Claude in. The lanky archer strolled in nonchalantly, setting a strange-looking teapot on the table. Byleth eyed it quizzically. 

“Oh, this? Well, I was feeling a bit homesick, let’s say. I had it sent over specially. Makes my pine needles taste divine, if you ask me. Speaking of?” He held out a hand, and Byleth started as she realized she’d promised him some. Grabbing him a sachet of Almyran pine needles for him, she quietly lit a fire under the little teapot, then began fussing around getting cups, honey, sugar, and tea cakes set out, and cast Muffling on the walls and door. She then pulled her desk chair up to the table, and finally sat down, looking at the two house leaders expectantly.

Edelgard cleared her throat, and launched into a brief sequence of events for their time in Abyss. She visibly struggled when talking about how Hapi saw herself, and Byleth laid a hand on hers. Claude’s eyes grew a little colder at that, but… He wasn’t the one who had to deal with years of self-hatred, so Byleth figured he could deal with seeing her give Edelgard care. When she got to Cornelia’s sudden appearance and the start of the battle, Byleth clicked her tongue in frustration.

“I knew I should have tried harder to keep her attention. I’m sorry.” Claude spoke up, an accusatory note in his voice. “I was wondering about that. Why _didn’t_ you? Wasn’t keeping her occupied while we moved Hapi the whole point of the split operation?” Byleth nodded. “I realized that I couldn’t talk to her normally. Everything she did… it just reminded me of all the horrible things I knew she would do to Dimitri, and what she’d already done at Duscur… By the time I realized I was in over my head, she was leaving. My only option was going to be doing something dramatic to get her attention again, but that could have easily backfired. That’s when Rhea showed up.”

Edelgard and Claude both stiffened, but Claude spoke first. “Rhea? What did Rhea want?” His eyes were flashing with anger, and Byleth realized she needed to diffuse the situation. “First of all Claude, keep what you know to yourself. There’s a time and place for that knowledge, and it isn’t now. Second… She brought me up to the star terrace and had tea with me. It was the dead of night, and nobody else was there, so I used the opportunity to press her about her support of the crest system and the nobility. She… The whole time, something was off with her. She was vulnerable, contrite… She actually cried a few times. Eventually, she actually admitted that Saint Seiros made mistakes in setting up the order of Fodlan after the War of Heroes, and that Seiros would never have wanted the world to be as it is now.” She gave Claude an intense look, and he leaned back in his chair, flabbergasted. Edelgard looked similarly shocked.

They took a brief break to pour tea, and as they resumed, Edelgard had a desperate look in her eye. “If the archbishop feels so strongly about the injustices of our current systems of power, why does she agree to perpetuate them? We… We could be allies in my goals rather than enemies, if she truly feels this way!” Byleth sighed. “Rhea also told me, in more words than this, that she felt trapped - if she offered criticism and tried to stand against the power structure of Fodlan, she’s worried it would destroy the church. And she’s still so hung up on S… on it, that that isn’t an option she’s willing to consider. If only she had some sort of political alliance with a certain emperor to lend her military support…” Edelgard looked stunned, and Claude snorted in his teacup.

Edelgard protested. “But Byleth, there’s no way that could work! Those Who Slither permeate every aspect of the Empire. Even though my plan upon taking the throne involves purging those loyal to them that I can touch, Thales is too firmly entrenched.” She was agitated, but then looked confused as Byleth’s smirk reached her. “...what? Have I done something to offend?” Byleth shook her head and laughed softly. “You called me Byleth.” Edelgard went crimson in the face, and busied herself with her teacup as if it were the most fascinating thing she’d ever seen.

To save her, and steer the conversation back on track, Byleth cleared her throat. “I felt three Divine Pulses. What happened during the battle?” Edelgard scoffed bitterly. “Two of them were from my carelessness. One was to save Balthus from Cornelia.” She and Claude took turns recounting the events of the battle, up to Edelgard’s fall and the arrival of the beasts. Byleth looked up at Sothis with gratitude. “That was fast thinking. I’m glad you’ve learned _something_ riding around in my head for as long as you have.” The mother goddess of Fodlan gave a very rude gesture in response, which made Edelgard choke on her tea.

Claude cut in next. “You know how demonic beast fights go by now, I’m sure, so no need to retread ground there… Except... Lysithea can use Seraphim. It seems awful early for her to develop her White magic that far.” Byleth nodded. “She’s been pushing herself incredibly hard. If she had more experience I’d give her the warlock and bishop exams _today_ … I really should take her to tea some time, try to get her to relax a little. Edelgard, have you made any progress on that front?” Edelgard looked confused, and shook her head. Byleth looked at Claude, who nodded as if he was aware where the conversation was heading. “You do realize that she’s… like you, right? I know you at least suspect it, but I’m confirming it. She suffered under Those Who Slither in the same way you did, except her life expectancy is dramatically lower. I don’t know if they just figured out how to circumvent that with you, or if it’s the Crest of Flames, but…” 

Claude choked on his tea. “Wh-wait. What?! I had suspected she had two crests for a while, but… She’s got a Crest of Flames too?” Edelgard looked away from Claude’s searching gaze, so he turned to Byleth. She shrugged. “Yes, but we’re getting off track here. Edelgard. I would like you to try to get closer to Lysithea, if you can. She probably won’t listen if I tell her to relax, but… if she knew that you had been through the same thing, I feel confident that she would listen to you.”

She nodded, deep in thought. Byleth turned to Claude. “What about the bodies? Having an Agarthan’s body to study or give to Rhea as proof would be invaluable.” He grimaced. “Yuri’s been working on that. He’s got some kind of cold storage he had all of them taken to, but… It’s a mess, Teach. I don’t recommend looking at it for long.” She nodded. “That’s fine. Once this is over, would you mind asking Yuri to come find me? I want to go over options with him.”

She sighed. Now, it was her turn to talk. “Well… after your battle, Sothis came back to me. I had, ah… Rhea asked if I would stand guard in her chambers for the rest of the night, and… something compelled me to do it. Nothing malicious, but I definitely agreed to it without being fully committed. If it _was_ Rhea’s doing, I’m not sure she was aware she was doing anything to sway me. The night ended without incident, and after a little sleep, I headed up through Daphnel territory with the Blue Lions towards Ailell. We routed a bunch of idiot mercenaries the following morning, but it was barely even a fight, and if we had been anywhere besides that cursed hellhole of a valley, I doubt any of us would have even broken a sweat. We stayed in the Galatea manor overnight, then made it back last night.”

She rubbed her throat as she tried to think of anything she hadn’t mentioned that was her business to tell. Not thinking of anything, she hummed. “That’s all I’ve got for you. Claude, if you would go find Yuri, I’d like to get started with him sooner rather than later.” He eyed her warily, but eventually nodded, taking his teapot with him. “Thanks for the afternoon, Teach. It was certainly enlightening.”

Edelgard got up after he left, and began preparing to leave. She had given her a lot to think about, so Byleth couldn’t blame her. Still, though… “Hey.” Edelgard looked up, not quite meeting her gaze. “Are you alright? It can be… hard, using the Divine Pulse. You sadly do get used to it, but…” Edelgard fidgeted a little, playing with a bit of her hair. “Mostly. It… One of the injuries I took was very bad, but Sothis did something and the pain went away. I don’t quite know how it worked, but, because of that, I’m fine. I’m still a little sore from hitting the ground so hard afterwards, but I can hardly complain about aches when we came out of a life-or-death battle without any casualties. I’m sure I’ll be fine in a day or so.”

Byleth clicked her tongue. “That’s no good. I want you better now. Here, lie down on my bed. I’ll heal you up properly.” Edelgard blushed, but evidently wanted to feel relief a bit more strongly than she’d let on as she quickly complied. Byleth cleaned up quickly, then took off her coat so her sleeves wouldn’t get in the way. She sighed as she moved over to Edelgard’s side. “Between you and me, while Linhardt is a great healer, his lack of bedside manner means that he leaves people with unnecessary aches simply because he thinks he’s done once he’s healed the injury itself. I’m going to have to work on that with him…” 

She sighed, and gathered up healing energy in her hands, forming it into spheres. She sank the spheres of white light down into Edelgard, starting from her ankles, and moved up slowly, soothing and untensing her muscles. She was still obviously carrying the strain of her landing, especially in the muscles in her back. Byleth had just finished when she heard another knock at the door. Edelgard looked blissfully unaware of anything, so Byleth left her for a moment and opened the door a crack. The back of Yuri’s purple mane greeted her, and she realized with a start that he was leaning backwards against her door. She looked down and found him holding out a note, which she took. She heard a gentle laugh, and then Yuri was gone in a flash of light.

She unfolded the note. It read simply: “ _Black Eagles homeroom, 11th bell._ ” Cryptic, but better than other notes she’d received from Yuri in past lifetimes. Soft groaning reached her ears, and she turned around to find a rather dazed-looking Edelgard sitting up on her bed. She walked to the bed, and knelt down in front of the white-haired girl. “Feeling any better… El?” She was rewarded with the warmest smile she had seen on Edelgard in this entire lifetime, and couldn’t help but smile back.

\---

Byleth moved silently through the night as the monastery bells rang out the time. She slipped into her classroom at the eleventh bell, and conjured fire in her hand to see if Yuri was there. There was no sign of him yet, so she lit a candle at her desk, then cast Muffling on the walls of the classroom. She was moving to do the door when she heard it creak open, and to her surprise all four of the Ashen Wolves slipped into the room. They shut the door, and she locked and Muffled it, before turning back to them. Constance and Hapi held fire in their hands, illuminating the room in an eerie way. The four of them sat down in the second row of desks, and she sat backwards in the row in front of them.

After a small silence, Byleth spoke. “So, Yuri? I got the impression we’d be meeting alone.” He chuckled. “Now whatever would make you think that? You helped Hapi, which means we all owe you a debt.” Byleth looked puzzled, and motioned for him to continue. “We talked it over, and I even went and talked to Rhea, which I try to avoid if at all possible… We’d like to join your ranks. Only Constance and Hapi can officially become your little Eagles, since Balthus already graduated and I got expelled, but… What do you think?”

Byleth was taken aback. “I… I mean, I would love to have you all around to help, of course, but… Are you sure you’d even want to do this? None of you exactly _need_ the Officer’s Academy education.” Constance laughed. “Professor, please! This is an opportunity for us to learn from an incredibly skilled mercenary alongside the brightest minds of our generation! I know that I for one would not squander the opportunity, even if the coursework is not up to my imagining.”

Balthus nodded. “Besides, it’d be easier for you to keep us around if we show up for lectures and stuff like that. And that means we’d get in on any action you get up to without having to send somebody to find Yuri!” Hapi chimed in as well. “I’d probably be dead if it wasn't for you, so… I’m with you, if you’ll have me.”

Byleth looked at them and smiled. “Well… If you’re all sure about this, I’d be more than happy to have you in my house. Although we’ve got a battle coming up that you’ll need to prepare for, which means I’m going to have to spar off with all of you soon to gauge your skills.” They all agreed, which made Byleth feel giddy and nervous. She’d never recruited the Ashen Wolves this early before, and their unique set of skills was sure to come in handy over the coming months. They celebrated a little together, and then the four of them made to leave. Byleth asked Yuri to hang back, and even though the other Wolves eyed the two of them warily as they left, they didn’t say anything.

When the door clicked shut, Byleth rounded on Yuri. “Before we talk bodies… What did you have to give Rhea for this?” Yuri chuckled darkly. “What makes you so sure she didn’t let us join out of the goodness of her heart?” Byleth scoffed. “Rhea always has an… almost always has an angle. Did you have to agree to become her spymaster?” Yuri froze for a moment, which was answer enough. “Don’t worry, you aren’t compromised already or anything. It’s future knowledge.” He let out a nervous laugh before speaking again. “Truth be told, even though it’s going to be a pain in the ass, it’s good for Abyss. I run the show down there. Working for her means Abyss is shielded from those zealots that want to ‘purge’ us… Plus, I’m sure someone like Rhea keeps some juicy secrets.” Byleth frowned. “I know a lot of them, so take my advice: don’t stick your nose in too far.”

Yuri looked like he was going to object, but evidently he thought better of it. The two sat in silence for a time, then he shifted to look at her straight on again. “So… What do we do about the Agarthans I have? I don’t object to studying them, but the longer we hold onto them the more risk there is of them being discovered.” Byleth hummed. “I want you to try to figure out how their human disguises work, if possible. Other than that, collect as much biological data as you can. Bloodwork, bone samples, the whole thing. I’m talking about autopsies, so make sure your people aren’t bothered by breaking that particular law.” Ordinarily she would have expected him to scoff, but the law banning autopsies was one of the ones that the church had zero tolerance for people breaking.

“Are we going to give them to Rhea at some point?” Yuri looked solemn, so Byleth returned the courtesy when she answered him. “Yes. You’ve got until after the Rite of Rebirth to learn everything you can. Once I have my sword back, she’ll realize that my crest is active, and be that much more willing to hear me out. We’ll need to do it carefully, but… I don’t think hiding it any longer than that will help at all.” He nodded, and they spent several more minutes in silence. He sighed, and stood to leave. “I do have one final thing for you. Got a name for our mysterious knight. Evidently, he’s called Anacharsis. Unfortunately, that’s _all_ I have on him, though.” She nodded, her mind racing as Yuri left her alone in the dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pretend there's clapping emojis between each word of this: every single Black Eagle is bisexual
> 
> Byleth's line about falling for Ingrid is some *real shit*. On my first run, knowing nothing about the game, I tried to have my F!Byleth get with Ingrid until Dorothea's paralogue happened, and when she shuts Dorothea down for even joking about the ring being a proposal I was really devastated for her. I ended up S ranking with Mercedes anyway, so it all worked out for that Byleth, but still.
> 
> The autopsy thing is real, by the way. There's an archive in the Shadow Library in Abyss that talks about banned technologies and items, and autopsies, especially on the head or chest, are expressly forbidden. The church line is that science shouldn't replace faith (in a literal sense, Faith magic), but it's obviously about crest stones. That same archive mentions that oil was found in northern Faerghus and its discovery was silenced. I personally think the reason Ailell always has fire burning in it is because the missile that hit that region ignited an oil reservoir under the ground.
> 
> Next time: Edelgard's first big meeting since becoming a mole in Those Who Slither, and we might actually even get to the Sword of the Creator, finally.
> 
> Edited 01/02/21 for consistency and quality.


	21. The Flame in the Darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edelgard brings some distressing news to Byleth, extends an olive branch to Dimitri, and has a tense confrontation.

“Ah, it is such a rare treat to get to spend time with _both_ of you!” Bereth’s smile reached from ear to ear, and it filled his heart with warmth. Today, he was playing host to both Sothis and Byleth, who had come by solely to spend time on what she had called “sibling bonding day”. While it hardly seemed necessary for her to devote an entire _day_ to him, he would be lying if he said the prospect didn’t make him feel giddy. His cramped little office felt positively full in the best way possible, even if one of the people in his chairs was technically immaterial. Byleth returned his smile, her stoic mask completely forgone. He knew that she enjoyed sleeping in on the weekends, so for her to be here bright and early was very meaningful to him. 

Her smile quickly faded, though, and she began what sounded suspiciously like an apology. “I know I keep a ridiculous schedule, and I don’t make time for you as often as I should, but--” Bereth cut her off with a wave of his hand. “Nonsense! I know what kind of person you are, and I know you’d find time if there were time. Goddess knows you likely have more to juggle than even Lady Rhea, though. I’m just delighted you’re here!” She smiled sheepishly, and Sothis giggled. “ _I do indeed know, and I agree! You should see how she lazes about in the morning, carrying on about dreams. That girl…_ ” Byleth shot Sothis a look that Bereth didn’t quite understand, and the confusion in his eyes must have been noticed, as Byleth sighed softly.

She ran her hand through her hair, fidgeting in her seat a little and tapping her fingers on his desk. Bereth was fairly sure she didn’t realize she had these tics, but he could tell that she was debating on telling him _something_ or other. Finally, she spoke. “I didn’t mention it because it didn’t seem important, but, the other night Rhea invited me to tea, and then had me stay with her overnight. Nothing like what you might be thinking.” She shot him a slightly dark look, as if she could see the question forming in his mind. “I stood guard in her chambers. Sothis joined me near dawn, and that’s how she got to see Rhea waking up. Nothing strange.” Sothis snorted, but before she could respond there was a knock at his office door. Exchanging glances, Bereth rose from his desk and cracked the door open to check who their unexpected fourth was.

On the other side of the door stood Edelgard von Hresvelg, looking a bit concerned. How odd - he had always thought, from his limited interactions with her, that the Imperial princess was a bit unflappable. He opened the door wide enough for her to slip inside, and pulled the door back shut. Byleth quickly re-cast Muffling on the door - it was likely still in effect, but better safe than sorry. Edelgard's eyes widened on seeing Sothis in the office, and she began to speak stiffly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude… Could I borrow Byle… the Professor, rather, for a few moments? Something has come up.” Working quickly to hide his disappointment, Bereth was about to agree to it when Byleth spoke up. “El, Bereth is not only family, but a member of our group. Anything you need to say to me on that front, you can say in front of him, alright?” Edelgard went pink in the face, though Bereth couldn’t tell if it was from the use of a pet name or from being admonished. After a moment, she nodded.

“My apologies. I was… I was simply concerned.” She sighed, steeling herself for something. “Solon has requested a meeting. From what we were told, it will involve Thales as well. I… He’s due to arrive this afternoon.” Concern was perhaps too weak a word, to Bereth’s mind. Byleth immediately stood, and placed her hands on Edelgard’s shoulders. “It’s going to be alright. They have no reason to suspect you of anything. All you need to do is play your part. I can be right there if you need--” “No!” Edelgard’s unexpected shout shocked Bereth, and Byleth looked like she’d been struck. “I… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have raised my voice. It… This meeting was not part of our original plan. It’s likely being called in response to Cornelia’s absence, which means that Solon is frightened. I can’t in good conscience let you spy on this meeting, in case they detect you. I’m sorry…”

Byleth shook her head, hair whipping about at the ends in a way that would have made Bereth chuckle were the situation not serious. “Don’t be sorry. This isn’t your fault.” She sighed. “I’ll trust you to be safe, but… Come find me as soon as you’re able afterwards, alright? You can tell me what they said, and take time to calm down in a safe place.” Edelgard said nothing for a moment, looking down at the ground, before squaring her shoulders and nodding. Byleth smiled, a different sort of smile than he had seen on her face before. “Alright. Go do what you need to do, then… But, if I might make a suggestion? It’s a nice day. You should consider talking to Dimitri before Thales arrives. It wouldn’t hurt to reconnect a little, if only because he’ll follow you around like a lost puppy afterwards and deflect some of Thales’ attention when he arrives at the monastery.”

Edelgard looked like she was going to be ill, but she nodded again. “That… While I don’t exactly relish the idea of using Dimitri like that, there is something to be said for having a distraction ready. To say nothing of potentially reconnecting with my step-brother... Very well, I will try. A-anyway… I’ve taken enough of your time. I apologize for my intrusion.” She bowed toward Bereth and Sothis, but before she could leave, Byleth reached out her hand again. “Stay safe, El.” When Edelgard responded, her voice was higher than normal, and shook a little. “I-I will try. Thank you… Byleth.” And then she was gone.

Sothis let out a mighty laugh that she must have been holding in for the entire time Edelgard was present. As she calmed down, she turned to Byleth and spoke. “ _Oh… Oh dear. That poor girl! You owe her some of those pastries tonight as repayment for your teasing._ ” Now it was Byleth’s turn to flush bright red, and she stammered out “I-I was not teasing her! I just… I wanted her to be safe!” Her response merely made Sothis start cackling once more, and Byleth sat back down with a huff, blowing hair out of her face. Bereth smiled, not quite sure what to make of the exchange. Then, he got a wicked idea. He leaned forward, and tried to make his voice as innocent-sounding as possible. “So… Care to tell me about ‘El’, sister dearest?” Byleth put her head in her hands and groaned.

\---

Dimitri attempted to relax and enjoy lunch with his classmates. It was proving tougher than he expected - news of the assassination threat had been disseminated among the students in theory so that they could stand guard, but somehow the Blue Lions had gotten mixed up in the committee in charge of decorating and beautifying the monastery ahead of the festival of the Goddess’ Rite of Rebirth. Though they had been instructed to break into smaller groups and join the Knights once their duties were done, there was no real _urgency_ to their assignment, which rankled him at first. But then, after thinking it over, he came to a different conclusion about the whole thing. Dimitri was no strategic genius by any means, something he would have been the first to admit when asked, but even he now realized that there was something suspicious about the assassination plot. 

When Dimitri had first shared his reservations to Dedue, Sylvain, Felix, and Ingrid, they had uniformly looked shocked. To his dismay, it wasn’t a matter of shared concern at the thought of some further unknown plot lurking beneath the surface, but instead surprise that _he_ had figured it out. He had endured some good-natured teasing from Sylvain over it, but what continued to replay in his mind was Felix’s reaction - Felix had of course scoffed, rather than teasing him. But it was a lot less vehement than usual, and afterwards he had even offered him a compliment, albeit a back-handed one. 

Though the four of them had been fast friends in childhood, Felix was slower to come around to him after his attempt to reconnect following their misadventure in Ailell than either of the other two. Then again, Felix was the only one among them to know his true, bestial nature... No! He shook his head and scolded himself internally, ignoring the confused look Dedue was now giving him in the dining hall. He would just have to accept that Felix would take time to learn to trust him again. Shocked at thinking that thought, he almost chuckled to himself - since when had Maneula joined the voices in his heart?

What an incredible breakthrough that had been, realizing that the ghosts which haunted him were not a part of the waking world, but instead existed only within his heart. He didn’t really understand how that was possible, since they spoke to him without him wanting them to, but coming to accept it _had_ taken a weight off of his shoulders. He alone carried their burdens, which meant that King Lambert, Queen Patricia, and Glenn were, in all likelihood, able to rest in peace in actuality. Manuela truly was a saint - when he came into his kingdom, he would have to offer her a suitable reward for meeting with him over the term and hearing his worries.

He was brought up from his thoughts by a kick to the shin from under the table - Sylvain was glancing pointedly at him and then away, quite intently. Confused, he followed the redhead’s eyes up to his left, where he spotted Edelgard von Hresvelg. His heart skipped a beat - had she come to avenge her honor from earlier in the term?

“Dimitri. Would you walk with me? I have something I need to discuss with you.” Her voice was even, but something was off in her eyes. The usual steel was missing, somehow. Curious… Finding his own voice, he responded “Of course. I had just finished my meal as it was.” Standing, he grabbed his tray, and looked Dedue in the eye, willing him to stay behind. He evidently got the message, as he gave a small nod. Glancing at the faces of the other Blue Lions, he saw concern, confusion, and the foolish smirk he knew to expect from Sylvain whenever women were involved.

Having deposited his tray, he and Edelgard left the dining hall, moving along the outer walkway toward the dorms. As they passed the stairs down to the fishing pond, he heard a distressed shout - turning that way, he found the fishkeeper stomping away from the pond as Professor Byleth, Knight-Captain Jeralt, and Dean Bereth sat side-by-side on the dock, overflowing buckets of fish behind each of them. Edelgard followed his eyes, and he was surprised to hear her laugh softly as she caught sight of the three of them. They were an odd trio, to be sure… He cleared his throat and Edelgard flicked her eyes up to his with a small huff.

They rounded the corner and began walking below the high wall north towards the Officer's Academy. It was Edelgard who broke the silence first, to his surprise. Her voice was low, but not unkind. “I… wanted to apologize to you, Dimitri. When we first met here at the monastery, I was quite rude to you. I…” She paused, searching for words. “No, no!”, Dimitri interjected. “If anything, it was my fault. I should not have spoken so familiarly to you after so long.” Edelgard gave him a small smile, and shook her head. “I cannot accept your apology without first explaining _why_ I reacted poorly.”

She sighed. “Up until recently, my memory of my childhood only went back to… to a few years ago. I was told that I spent time in the Kingdom during the Insurrection of the Seven, but it was little more than a hazy dream. Even now, it is still… hazy. But, I have, er, recalled something important about my time there. Namely, that there was a boy that I grew very close to, who, when it came time for me to leave the Kingdom and return home, gave me a gift that disturbed my younger self. A dagger.”

With a small metal hiss, she pulled a steel dagger with a faded blue grip from her belt and held it out, hilt outwards, to Dimitri. He took it gingerly, marveling that she had held onto it for this long. She continued to speak as Dimitri listened intently. “Back then, my dear friend told me to never give in, and to use this dagger to cut a path to the future I wished for. At the time, I didn’t understand what he meant, but after… after what happened to me in the Empire, this gift became truly precious to me. So now, after all this time, allow me to properly thank you. It’s in part due to you, Dimitri, that I never truly lost my heart in the dark times that followed our brief friendship.” He watched as her countenance darkened, then brightened again as she finished speaking. He felt his very soul grow lighter at her thanks, and smiled down at her.

They had wrapped their way around into the gardens now, and Dimitri spun her dagger around to return it to her. He tested the point, gasping softly as it pierced his finger - it was sharper now than it had been when it was new. He held the dagger out to her with his uninjured hand, and she chuckled as she took it and wiped the blood off on her scarlet half-cloak before sheathing it. “Here, allow me.” She took his hand in hers, and he was amazed at how small they were. Her brow creased with effort, Edelgard produced a small white light, and the cut in his finger closed instantly, leaving behind a small silver line as it scarred over. She frowned upon seeing it. “My apologies. I have been learning White magic at Byl-- at the Professor’s request, but I’m afraid that I am not very skilled at healing yet. I am not yet skilled enough to leave no scars behind.”

He laughed, becoming aware that they had stepped into the entrance hall by the way it echoed in the high ceilings of that room. “It is no trouble, El-- er… E-Edelgard.” He frowned, concerned that he might have just erased all the goodwill she had extended to him. But, to Dimitri’s surprise, Edelgard actually smiled at his slip. “It’s… strange, hearing that name again from someone else. But if you wish to call me that, in situations where informality is permitted, I would… enjoy it.” He released a breath that he hadn’t been aware he was holding in, and smiled in return. 

Suddenly, a familiar voice cut through the warm moment he and Edelgard had shared. “My, my, what a delightful scene. My dear niece and nephew seem to be getting along famously indeed.” He searched for the voice’s owner, and his eyes fell on Volkhard von Arundel. His black hair was pushed back, giving him a severe look, and any trace of the kindness Dimitri recalled in his lilac eyes had vanished. The years had not been kind to him, evidently. He and Edelgard called out in unison, “Uncle?”, and the man let out a cold laugh.

“Perhaps the two of you have been spending a lot of time together? That is good to see… After all, whether by blood or marriage, family is family. Ah, but, I’m afraid that I have very little time to chat right now. Edelgard, would you be a dear and escort me to the monastery’s guest quarters? It was a long ride from Enbarr.” Dimitri could have sworn he heard Edelgard’s knuckles pop, but she nodded, and turned her body toward the reception hall, saying “If you’ll come with me, then, Uncle…”

Dimitri spoke up quickly before he could leave. “So, you will be staying at the monastery, Uncle? I admit I am surprised - I had heard that it had been a few years since you donated to the church. I had assumed your relationship to it had become strained.” Arundel’s eyes scanned his face, but after a moment he relaxed ever so slightly. “That, dear nephew, was merely because of the financial situation in my territory. I assure you, it has nothing to do with my dedication to the church.” Turning on his heel, he motioned for Edelgard to start moving, and she shot him an apologetic look. Dimitri sighed as he watched the two of them walk away. Something was off about his uncle, that was certain. This whole situation warranted further investigation.

\---

As she hid inside her metal mask, Edelgard had to admit that she had never felt less protected. Though cloaked and masked in her guise as the Flame Emperor, she was _surrounded_ by Those Who Slither in the Dark. Thales, still wearing his disguise as Volkhard von Arundel, stood to her right. Solon, not bothering to wear his, was to her left, flanked by a girl with fiery hair she had never seen before. She was impatient to begin, but no one was speaking yet. She gripped the hilt of her dagger beneath her cloak, but waited as patiently as she could. Stomping footsteps heralded a new arrival, and Edelgard was shocked (and suddenly very grateful for her mask's presence) to see the black knight from Gaspard (whom Byleth had told her was named Anacharsis) enter into the ruined chapel where their meeting was taking place. The place was isolated enough that no students should be in the area, and they had confirmed that the Knights’ patrols would not take them to the area tonight.

Anacharsis spoke first, his voice echoing hollowly. “Apologies for my lateness. I believe that I was spotted, but I have shaken my pursuer. We are safe to meet as requested.” Before she could stop herself, Edelgard hissed out “ _You_.” The knight turned his masked face toward her, and laughed. “Ah, so _you_ were Thales’ little puppet. You owe me some blood.” His hand found the hilt of his sword, but Thales stepped forward, eyes flashing. “Your stupidity in allowing yourself to be ambushed by children is no one’s fault but your own. You will not touch our greatest creation in some misguided attempt at revenge. Draw your blade, and I will tear your heart out myself.”

Edelgard thought she heard something from outside the chapel, but Solon raised a hand. “Enough of this. We need to address Aspasia. She arrived at the monastery and disappeared within two days. I have no doubt of her strength, but… It is long overdue for her to come to meet with me.” Edelgard cocked her head. “Aspasia?”, she questioned. Thales growled in annoyance. “You would know her as Cornelia Arnim. She came to the monastery to track down an interesting beast she had been experimenting on, and has not resurfaced. Evidently Solon believes this is cause to risk everything by calling a meeting out of schedule.”

Anacharsis laughed, much to Solon and Thales’ displeasure. “That fool is dead. I have not been able to locate her body, but I doubt there would be much left to find. My spies tell me that her creation evidently turned against her, and summoned wild monsters to her aid. I imagine she is rotting in their stomachs even now.” Edelgard’s blood ran cold as he turned towards her, once again laughing. “Your ‘greatest creation’ here was also involved in her death.”

Thales turned to face her fully, displeasure evident. “Explain this.” Edelgard tried to affect a neutral tone even as she forced a laugh. “The child of the captain of the Knights was contracted to safeguard the girl that Cornelia was hunting, and she involved her class by bringing us in for battle experience. We did indeed clash with Cornelia and her forces, and as was said, she was brought low by a demonic beast. A shameful end.”

Thales scoffed. “If she lost a battle to children and wild animals, she deserved her fate. I trust she said nothing incriminating?” Edelgard caught a flash of blue in the bushes outside the door. She suspected that someone was following them, but before she acted and attempted to send them away, she needed to make sure that _some_ information was leaked to whoever was skulking around out there. “On the contrary. While I fought with her, before the beasts arrived, she gloated to my face about her role in the Tragedy of Duscur, and Anselma von Arundel.” Thales hissed.

“Foolish woman. It is better that she is dead, then, and fortunate she spoke only to you. We--” Edelgard stepped forward quickly, drawing her dagger and flinging it towards the figure in the bushes. “You _were_ followed,” she hissed at Anacharsis. Thales cursed in a language she did not recognize. “We shall reconvene another time. Solon, I will tolerate no more foolishness from you. Her death is meaningless in our grand design, and I will not risk everything now, before we have even had a chance to act. Now go.” Solon nodded, and flashes of light erupted all around as Those Who Slither warped away. Edelgard felt the familiar sensation of warping, herself, and found herself and Hubert in her dorm room a moment later. He helped her out of her armor as she debriefed him on anything he was unable to hear from his place in the shadows near the chapel.

“This will be an interesting report, Lady Edelgard.” Hubert’s smirk caused her to laugh, but it faded quickly. Edelgard began to feel panic flooding her chest. “Indeed. I intend to do so now… In the meantime, Hubert, please return to the chapel. I threw away my dagger, and I want it back.” He looked at her quizzically, but agreed without argument and vanished in a pillar of light. Edelgard began walking as fast as she could towards Byleth’s room. She was almost at the door when she felt an iron grip on her neck pinning her to the wall, so close to her sanctuary... 

She choked, desperate for breath. She was unable to turn around or even squirm in place, and the panic that had already begun to rise in her reached a fever pitch. Her vision began to lose color, and she knew that there was no escape from this. She vaguely heard a low voice rumbling near her, but she couldn’t make out anything concrete. Not that it mattered - too much more of this and she was going to die, voice or no.

Suddenly, she felt a searing heat fly past her, and the grip on her neck vanished. Coughing and sputtering, she fell to the ground and felt someone stepping past her. Despite the sudden rush of air, Edelgard was overcome, and her consciousness faded. In her final moment of awareness, she felt strong arms wrapping around her body, and the faint smell of jasmine wafting around her.

_Byleth..._

When she came to, Edelgard bolted upright, barely registering the softness under her as she gasped for breath. She brought her hands up to her throat, but it somehow didn’t hurt anymore. Had she been healed? Her eyes adjusted to the dim light, and she realized with a start that she was in Byleth’s room, on Byleth's bed, and that Byleth herself was standing in front of her, with her back turned and her blade drawn.

“By...leth?” She could barely speak, which worried her. Byleth answered without turning around. “Lie back down, El. You need to rest.” A gruff voice growled out “She _needs_ to answer my questions!”, and she heard the unmistakable sound of a Fire spell being readied. “ _Enough_ , Dimitri! You nearly killed her!” Dimitri? Edelgard’s blood ran cold, and she began to shake. In a voice barely louder than a whisper, Edelgard forced out a question. “It… it was you outside the chapel?”

Byleth turned her head towards Edelgard, concern etched on her face. She released the Fire spell and crouched down, white light forming in her off-hand. Sothis hovered over her, but her attention was on Dimitri. Evidently they were each watching the one the other had their eyes off of. Edelgard felt warmth in her throat and chest, and she sighed involuntarily. Dimitri scoffed.

“I can’t believe I allowed myself to be taken in by your honeyed words. Liar! Snake! I hold here the proof of who you are, the proof that YOU took my FAMILY from me!” She heard a thud, and looked past Byleth into the rest of the room. Dimitri was standing, shaking with anger, and her dagger quivered ominously where he had jabbed it deep into Byleth’s table. “I… I will tear your head from your shoulders, you wicked--” Byleth stood, eyes blazing, and waved her hand with a flash of light. Instantly Dimitri’s voice was gone - a Silence spell. “You will do no such thing to her! Edelgard was there on _my_ orders. If you want to exact foolish revenge without even listening to the full story, try it. Abandon the good in your heart, if you _truly_ desire. But you would be killing an innocent. Do you want that, Dimitri?”

He backed away a few paces, looking like he had been slapped in the face. A flick of Byleth’s wrist returned his voice to him. His breathing was ragged, and Edelgard felt pity growing inside of her, replacing the fear she had been feeling. “I… I…” Dimitri slumped to the floor in a heap, his head in his hands.

“I don’t understand... What do you _mean_ she was there on your orders? Those monsters she was with… our _uncle_! They were talking about the Tragedy of Duscur! She said that Cornelia, my father’s mage, _caused_ it, and they claimed that she had been one of their number. What… What is going _on_ here, Professor?!”

Byleth crossed over to Dimitri, crouched down, and raised her hands to his temples. She hesitated for a moment, letting out a tired sigh. “May I heal your mind again, Dimitri? I will answer some of your questions regardless, but you are suffering right now.” He said nothing, but eventually nodded, feebly. White light shone from Byleth’s hands and Edelgard watched as the pained expression on Dimitri’s face began to fade slightly.

Byleth sighed again, shuffling from crouching on one knee to a kneeling position. “I cannot answer all of your questions right now. With the pain in your heart and mind, I can’t trust you not to run off and get yourself killed trying to get revenge on our enemies. But… I will tell you what I can. Now then…” She rolled her shoulders and neck, attempting to get comfortable.

“The short version of all this… Well, the easiest way to put it is that there is a certain group that has been opposed to the goddess, and thus all those who follow the church, since before the founding of the Empire. This group has a staggering amount of resources, and technology that vastly outstrips our own, but they are very small in number. Because of this, they fight from the shadows, preferring to infiltrate and undermine instead of fighting us directly. Over the past few years, they have been behind a number of significant events. In the Empire, they caused the Insurrection of the Seven. In the Kingdom… they caused the Tragedy of Duscur.”

Edelgard stared down at Byleth, watching in awe as she soothed Dimitri, who had just recently been a raving mess. The kindness on her face was contrasted with the fire in her voice, yet she knew both were the woman she admired. Dimitri squirmed beneath her hands, but remained in place.

Byleth continued, not letting Dimitri speak yet. “I have been working to assemble a number of like-minded people to oppose this group. Edelgard is a part of this small group of mine, and was at that meeting tonight to get information out of the shadow group. Her work is… delicate.”

Dimitri shook his head. “Our uncle referred to her as their ‘greatest creation’. Explain _that_.” Byleth sighed, and turned her head toward Edelgard. “El? That is your story to tell, if you choose.” Edelgard swung her legs off of the bed, Sothis watching her like a hawk for any unsteadiness. She cleared her throat. “If telling Dimitri what happened to me is enough to stop him from ruining everything, then so be it.” He looked up at her in confusion, but did not say anything, which she took as her cue to begin.

“Shortly after I returned to Enbarr from the Kingdom, I was subjected to imprisonment and torture at the hands of the shadow group Byleth mentioned. The main instigator was our uncle, though he acquired the support of the Empire’s Prime Minister and other important nobles. During my time there… All of my siblings’ lives were extinguished, in order to forcibly implant a second crest in me. My body was twisted and corrupted by this group, and I was made into a m-- a weapon to bring about their will. Byleth rescued me from the shackles they placed on my heart and mind, and I am even now devoting all of my efforts to destroying them. They inflicted indescribable pain in order to force this unearthly power into my body… and I will return it tenfold. I trust that is enough for you?”

Dimitri stared up at her. “They… hurt you? Is that why your hair changed color?” Edelgard blinked, surprised. Was he concerned for her? She nodded slowly. “I trust that you remember how I looked before, then. Truthfully it’s… I cannot cast my mind back far enough to remember. Reaching into my past is an affair I cannot manage without pain.” Dimitri looked away, lost in thought.

“I apologize, then. I… I hurt you without cause. My foolishness nearly led me into a grave error. I know I do not deserve forgiveness, but--” Byleth growled. “No, Dimitri. None of that kind of talk. You are not beyond forgiveness. No one in this room is beyond forgiveness.” Edelgard heard Dimitri’s breath hitch in his throat, but he shakily let it out after a few moments. She sighed, and walked up behind Byleth, placing her hands on her shoulders for support. “Dimitri. I do not hold a grudge against you. A similar fire burns in me as does in you; I know what it is like to be so burdened with thoughts of revenge that you lose sight of yourself. There is nothing to forgive, as long as you promise not to stand in our way.”

Dimitri stood up to his full height, and he fixed her in an intense stare. “I… I would help you fight them, if I can. If I can have vengeance, it would give peace to the ghosts in my heart.” Edelgard was about to agree before Byleth cut in. “I can’t agree to that right now, Dimitri. You need to keep seeing Manuela, and continue healing. Once you're ready, I’ll tell you everything Edelgard knows, and you can stand by us in our fight.”

Dimitri’s shoulders fell, and he looked like he was about to protest before Byleth spoke again. “However… If you want to help us even without knowing everything, join us at the Holy Mausoleum on the day of the Rite of Rebirth. Come ready to fight.” A fire lit in Dimitri’s eyes again, and he gave Byleth Faerghus’ stiff, formal bow. “I shall be there, Professor. You can count on me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edelgard, Edelgard, Edelgard. You'd think she's my favorite lord or something... (she is)
> 
> Next time, the assault on the Holy Mausoleum, and a new addition to Byleth's super slither-fighting squad. Side note: I'm trying to find a good opportunity to let Edelgard name the group. Her naming talents are legendary, after all... 
> 
> Oh, by the way, a note on Agarthan naming conventions. While Kronya is a little different in terms of etymology (deriving from the name of a festival in honor of the titan Kronos), every other named Argarthan uses the name of one of the Seven Sages of ancient Greece, who were philosophers and statesmen. Solon and Thales are the most obvious examples, but in the Shambhala assault chapter, you find three other named Agarthans (Bias, Pittacus, and Chilon). There's also Myson, who pops up in the Shambhala assault and in several other spots in the game. There was meant to be a seventh, Cleobulus, but for whatever reason he was cut from the final release. 
> 
> There is, however, a little scholarly debate on who is included among the Seven Sages. One of those who is included in some lists but not others is Anacharsis, a half-Greek half-Scythian philosopher (Scythian is a term for a vague group of Eurasian nomads from the Pontic steppe) who was likely a forerunner to the Cynics. Despite being a foreigner to Athens, he ingratiated himself in the intelligentsia of the city, which included Solon, and his frank nature led to brash dialogue being referred to as "Scythian discourse" in Athens. Also, I gave Cornelia a proper Agarthan name as well. It's *possible* that Bias is meant to be her (since they're both gremories), but they have entirely different spell lists, and Bias doesn't use Cornelia's signature staff. IMO, that's not enough to link the two. So, I turned to Greek history again. Aspasia was a hetaera (high society escorts who were often very well educated and selective about their clients), and was the lover of the Athenian statesman Pericles following his divorce from his first wife. She was widely viewed as a woman of great wisdom and rhetorical ability by her contemporaries, men and women alike, and her house became something of an intellectual hub in Athens during her years in the city.
> 
> Edited 01/03/21 for consistency and quality


	22. A Time of Swords

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fight in the Holy Mausoleum doesn't go quite as planned, and Claude introduces a new scheme in the aftermath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CN for depictions of battle and injuries sustained in one.

The monastery was full to bursting with people and energy on the last Saturday of the Blue Sea Moon. Everyone who could travel to Garreg Mach for the high holy day of the Goddess’ Right of Rebirth was here, whether noble or commoner, young or old. The chapels and cathedral were abuzz with activity, and if people actually noticed the various students and knights standing around as security, they did not let it interfere with their worship. From her position at the entrance to the alcove that housed the Holy Mausoleum’s great iron doors, Byleth watched as the throngs of people settled in for a service. Her eye lingered as she spotted Ashe, a radiant smile on his face, standing next to Lonato. The older knight had lost a little weight in prison, but on this day he looked whole again.

She felt a tap on her shoulder, and looked back to find that all of her Black Eagles were in place. Edelgard had drawn close to get her attention, and she smiled nervously up at her. In a whisper, she asked “My teacher… I know you said you were prepared for anything, but you do know that they have--” She put a hand on Edelgard’s shoulder and smiled. “I know Jeritza is going to be with them. So long as we don’t present him with a tantalizing fight, he won’t bother. So, don’t worry.” Her eyes widened at Byleth publicly naming the Death Knight, but she said nothing. More footsteps alerted her to what she expected to be their final two members, but instead, she was greeted with the sight of Claude, looking very pleased with himself, Hilda, a very bewildered Marianne, and an incensed Dimitri. She motioned all of them into the alcove, and Dimitri began hissing at Claude in a whisper.

“What do you think you are _doing_? Why have you brought Marianne? This is going to be dangerous!” He caught Byleth’s eye, silently pleading for her to intervene. Claude, however, just smirked. “Hey now, you didn’t expect me to walk into danger without my trusty retainer, did you? And I couldn’t just bring myself _and_ Hilda without bringing an extra healer along. That would just be irresponsible.” Byleth could already see the reply forming in Dimitri’s mind about how he had come alone, but she put a hand up as the choir began to sing in the cathedral.

“Enough, everyone. Hilda, Marianne… I wasn’t planning on you being here, but it will at least help our forces have a bit more weight. Now then…” She pulled out a hand-drawn map of the Mausoleum, including where she “expected” enemy forces to be positioned. “The Western Church has already slipped down into the Mausoleum. They aren’t going to be expecting an ambush, so we’ll need to move quickly and efficiently once we’re inside. That’s why I’m dividing you all into two teams. I will lead the eastern team, and Edelgard, you’ll lead the western team.” Marianne looked concerned at hearing that their enemies would be members of the clergy, but there wasn’t enough time to explain to her now.

She sighed, running numbers in her mind. “I don’t expect more than a couple dozen at most, but even so, stick together down there. The enemy is not here to play around - they’re going to be well-equipped and well-trained. Their objective is most likely the coffin of Saint Seiros, so that will be our eventual rallying point. Keep your heads in there, and absolutely _do not_ charge off without hearing from your team leader first.”

“My team will consist of myself, Dimitri, Claude, Hilda, Marianne, Petra, and Bernadetta. Edelgard’s team will be her, Hubert, Ferdinand, Linhardt, Caspar, Dorothea, and Lysithea. Once we get down the stairs, we’ll meet up with the Ashen Wolves, who are already inside keeping an eye on things. Hapi will join my group, and Constance will join Edelgard’s. I want the western team to head up that side of the Mausoleum and eliminate any threats you come across. We’ll do the same on the eastern side, and meet back up at the far end of the tomb.”

Claude spoke up. “And what do Yuri and Balthus get to do?” She smirked. “They’re going to hide themselves at the entrance to wait for reinforcements to arrive, and ambush them. Once that’s done, they can join us.” Humming to herself as she finished the plan, she looked at each of them. “Finally… I give you my word that I will not let a single one of you fall here.”

\---

Edelgard squared her shoulders and unlatched her shield and axe from the holster on her back. She had come in slightly less than full plate armor this time, as Byleth seemed to think that mobility was going to be key here, but she couldn’t exactly say she felt comfortable without the extra protection. Still, as a team leader, she needed to be focused on the mission. She shook her head to clear her mind, and looked back at her team. Now that Constance had joined them, they were officially a squad of eight. So long as Byleth’s predictions about the placement of enemy forces held up, they could conceivably pair off to strike more efficiently, or split in half to overwhelm small groups…

She could hear faint chanting in the rear of the Mausoleum. That would most likely be from the dark mage attempting to break into the empty coffin. Why they were protecting it so intently was beyond Edelgard - she already knew there was nothing in there, since Seiros was still alive and running the church under a false name, but Byleth knew best. She looked over at Byleth, and watched as Sothis floated upwards, high up towards the center of the room. Evidently she was going to be watching for any casualties for both groups simultaneously. While chilling to think about for too long, she had to admit that knowing that their mistakes could simply be erased gave her confidence that she might have otherwise lacked as she prepared to lead her acquaintances - friends? - into battle without Byleth by her side once more.

Finally, the signal came. Their forces charged down into the Mausoleum, taking the Western Church soldiers by surprise. One of their mages cried out in alarm, and addressed the hulking silhouette she noticed in the center of the room. “Death Knight! Prove your strength and scatter these fools!” A hollow scoff emanated from the mountain of metal that hid Jeritza von Hrym from their sight. “I don’t take commands. Or waste my time on weaklings.” Thank the goddess for his strange tendencies… Edelgard shouted out “Everyone! That knight is a powerful opponent. Let’s do all we can to avoid him!” Byleth nodded, and gave the order to charge.

With a shout, Edelgard charged forward up with western side of the room, flanked by Hubert and Caspar. The easily broke the initial defenses the Western Church had hastily put together, and advanced past the first few rows of coffins. Constance, Dorothea, Hubert, and Lysithea were slinging spells left and right, and it looked for a moment as though their advance would continue completely unimpeded. Then, two mages stepped into view, standing on strange panels set into the floor. They took several spells directly without even flinching, and returned fire before anyone could process what was happening. Caspar was launched backwards, his body smoking from the impact-- time lurched to a halt, and Sothis cried out “ _Those markings on the floor are warding glyphs! Your spells won’t be able to do anything to anyone on them!_ ”

Time rolled backwards, and Edelgard called a halt just as the mages came into view again. She ducked behind a pillar as a Miasma spell whizzed past her, and commanded everyone into cover. “Those spots on the floor are wards - magic isn’t going to do anything to anyone standing on them. We’ll need to get in close somehow.” Ferdinand repeated what she said to Linhardt, who was in the rear of the party. She began planning, but was interrupted as another Divine Pulse rocked the Mausoleum. Sothis was shouting at Byleth now, warning her about hidden archers. Edelgard took that information under advisement as well. As time resumed, she heard Ferdinand speaking to Linhardt again, when inspiration struck.

“Linhardt! I want you to cover us just like you did Byleth during the mock battle!” The green-haired mage’s eyes widened, but he nodded, slipping up through their ranks to stand next to her. “We’ll start moving on the count of three. Linhardt, you lead Dorothea and Constance in countering the spells their mages send at us. Hubert, Lysithea, I want you to keep on the lookout for archers waiting in ambush. The second you see one stepping out, I want them to drown in Dark magic, understood?” They nodded, and Edelgard took a deep breath. “Alright everyone. One… Two… Three!”

She, Ferdinand, and Caspar began sprinting towards the mages on the warding tiles, who responded by sending Fire and Miasma spells their way. Just as they were getting close, a Cutting Gale raced across the field, scoring the ground beneath it and slicing the oncoming magic in half. A Thoron bolt from Dorothea caused another Miasma spell to explode in the dark mage’s hand, and he stumbled backwards, off of his ward tile. Ferdinand hurled a javelin towards him while running - Edelgard honestly expected it to miss wildly until it got caught in a second Thoron, which propelled it at incredible speed. The javelin, crackling with electricity, burst through the dark mage’s chest and buried itself in the stone pillar behind him, and the mage himself slumped to the floor, unmoving.

An arrow screeched past Edelgard’s head, and as she raised her shield she saw Lysithea and Hubert raising their arms in unison, opening up a dark Mire on the ground beneath the now-doomed archer. He screamed in vain, as he was swallowed by the darkness, but his comrade on the opposite side of the aisle scored a lucky shot on Ferdinand’s exposed neck. He fell, clutching at his wound, but Sothis wound time back once more, allowing Edelgard to jump in front of him with her shield raised. The arrow clattered harmlessly off her shield, and she offered quiet gratitude to the little goddess. 

After three Pulses, Sothis was looking tired, and she called out to both Edelgard and Byleth (who had been making short work of her side, pushing forward even faster than Edelgard’s group). “ _I only have one... perhaps two more Pulses in me, at most. Please be careful!_ ” Edelgard swore under her breath, and rushed the second archer, cleaving him down the middle with minimal effort before spinning towards the second mage and removing his head from his shoulders in one swipe. She allowed herself a moment to revel in her strength - since Byleth had taken command of the Black Eagles, Edelgard’s already-significant strength had blossomed. Without the trappings of her plate armor, she felt light and speedy, and her axe was a whirlwind of death. She glanced over toward Byleth, but instead met the cold, unblinking eyes of the Death Knight’s mask. He gripped his scythe tightly, and in the chill of the Mausoleum she could see his breath, heavy and ragged. He fidgeted in his saddle, practically standing up in the stirrups.

Edelgard knew that stance, and recognized that heavy breathing. Jeritza was rapidly losing control. She cried out “Byleth! He’s about to charge!”, but it was too late. The Death Knight spurred his sable horse forward at astonishing speed, and spun his scythe overhead. He whipped it down, and Caspar screamed in anguish as the blade found purchase in his back. Edelgard screamed his name, but the sound died in her throat as Sothis pulled time backwards again. She held them frozen for a moment longer, and Edelgard realized that they were back to when she killed the second mage. 

Sothis flew close to Byleth, hoarsely speaking to her. By Edelgard’s count, they had a scant half a minute before Jeritza attacked them - hardly enough time to mount a suitable defense. None of the Eagles were strong enough or fast enough to parry his strikes besides her, and in an instant, Edelgard knew what she had to do. As soon as time resumed, she charged past Ferdinand and Caspar, screaming “Stay back! Protect the mages!” Clanging together her axe and shield, she made her play. “I order you to depart at once! Slake your thirst somewhere else, Death Knight!” He laughed coldly, and readied his scythe.

\---

Byleth was ready to have Claude, Bernadetta, and Petra launch a barrage of arrows towards the Death Knight to keep his attention off of the Eagles as Sothis had suggested when she heard Edelgard shouting and banging her axe on her shield. As the Death Knight laughed, she knew what had to happen to stop him - since they had already cleared their side, the way was clear to the dark mage leading the Western Church forces. There was only one thing for it. 

She readied an Aura in her off hand, then shouted to her team. “Hilda! Keep the archers and Marianne safe! Archers! Target that horse - legs, joints, eyes, anything unarmored and weak! Dimitri! I need you to get in close and use that Knightkneeler strike you’ve been practicing! Do _not_ try to fight him directly - concentrate on his mount!” Her orders given, Byleth rushed off at double time towards the mage at the casket.

She couldn’t bear to look towards her students, counting on Sothis to stop this plan if it was going to backfire. Instead she sprinted at full tilt towards the mage, who was crowing triumphantly. “You’re too late, Central Church dastards! The seal is bro--” She unleashed her Aura spell with a savage cry, the explosion of light burning the dark mage beyond belief and hurling him away from the raised dais where the casket was. He landed with a sickening crunch along the back wall. She reached the now open casket in several quick steps, and reached down until her hand found what she was looking for. 

The Sword of the Creator blazed forth in its eerie red glow, and she pulsed the Crest of Flames long enough to hurl her steel blade like a javelin towards the Death Knight. Finally facing him, she could see that her plan had somewhat worked - the combined assault of Dimitri and her archers had unhorsed him, but he had gotten back up and was whirling his scythe far too quickly for either Edelgard or Dimitri to safely close the distance to strike. He turned his head upon feeling energy from the explosive power of her Light magic, and she watched in horror as he, rather than parrying or deflecting her improvised projectile, merely stepped aside. The steel blade was slicing through the air at high speed, and at its current trajectory-- “Edelgard, no!! DUCK!”

She could see the terror in Edelgard’s lilac eyes as she realized the blade was coming straight at her, but there was no way she’d be able to dodge in time. Byleth desperately reached for Sothis’ power… but this time, it did not come.

A horrified scream tore from her lips, mirrored by a bellowing roar as Dimitri shoved Edelgard aside. His eyes widened in shock as the heavy sword rammed into his shoulder, and he went sprawling backwards. Marianne screamed louder than Byleth had ever heard her before and dashed towards him, completely ignoring the Death Knight, who was _laughing_. White-hot fury welled up in Byleth, and as she dashed towards him, she readied herself - attempting to use Ruptured Heaven this early was going to take a severe toll on her body, but there was no other option.

She swung, the blazing red dragonbone of the blade separating out into a whip, and let out a barbaric scream as she whipped the Sword of the Creator to and fro. Her attack cut deep grooves into the marble floor, and knocked a pillar over onto one of the coffins of the Four Saints, but she had eyes only for the Death Knight. The whip-blade danced, and she could see spurts of blood and pieces of armor flying away from Jeritza as the full fury of her attack reached him. With a final flick of her wrist, she sent him careening across the Holy Mausoleum, trailing blood as he crashed into a wall on the far side of the room. A mage dressed in the battle gear of Those Who Slither in the Dark warped to his side, and quickly warped him away from the battlefield, which fell silent aside from Marianne’s anguished sobbing.

That sound snapped her back to reality, and she re-formed the Sword of the Creator, sheathing it and willing her body to move as fast as it could before the pain that was already building up in her overwhelmed her. Linhardt met her as they arrived at the scene, and Byleth screamed “FUCK!” in anger, frustration, and shame. Dimitri’s left arm was barely hanging from his torso, and the pool of blood underneath him was growing rapidly. 

“SOTHIS!” The small goddess appeared next to her, clearly exhausted, but full of concern. Not bothering to conceal that she was talking to something that her students couldn’t see, she gave her order: “Get Flayn and Rhea down here NOW!” She ripped her coat off, trying to use it to staunch the flow, then reached for her crest power again. Her body was shaking in protest, but right now her willpower was iron.

Putting her hands together and forming a Recover sigil, she began pumping every ounce of energy she had into Dimitri’s gaping wound. Marianne and Linhardt followed suit with weaker healing spells, and the other mages either channeled their own energy into Byleth if they had no suitable healing spells or added their own to the mix. The wound began to knit itself together before her eyes, but it was too slow, his blood kept flowing, and she began to panic - they were going to lose Dimitri here, and it would be her fault for making such a stupid and dangerous move. 

She was so overcome with guilt that she didn’t hear the sound of hurried footsteps echoing in the Mausoleum, nor the sharp gasp. It wasn’t until flashes of green hair danced in her peripheral vision that she looked up - Rhea and Flayn were there, and with the addition of their powerful healing magic, Dimitri’s wound began to seal over in earnest. “Dima…” she gasped out, and suddenly the world rushed up to meet her.

\---

Byleth jerked upwards, gasping for breath. Her entire body felt like it had been beaten with heavy iron rods, and her vision swam as she tried to gain a handle on her thoughts. A soft, warm hand clasped her shoulder, and she heard Rhea’s voice as she struggled against the hand holding her down. “Byleth, please! You need to rest! The danger is over, dear one.” As her eyes slowly focused, she realized that she was in Rhea’s room, lying on her impossibly soft bed. She tilted her neck slightly, wincing as her muscles protested the action, and found Rhea at last. Her green eyes were filled with weariness, but she wore a caring smile as she looked down at Byleth. She continued trying to push out of Rhea’s grip, but she had no strength left to do it. Finally accepting her restraint, she slumped backwards. “But… what about Dimitri?”

Rhea let out a sigh, and kept her hand on Byleth’s shoulder even as she let her lie flat again. “He is resting in the infirmary. Thanks to your incredible work, and Flayn’s insistence that we cut short the ritual in the Goddess Tower, his life was spared.” Rhea shook her head slowly. “I will want answers for your actions today, but… For now, you must rest. You have overused your body’s magical energy, and the pain you are feeling is a result of it.” She nodded, feebly. “And… Edelgard, and the others?” A little of the weariness left Rhea's eyes as her smile widened. “All safe and sound. Miss Edmund is rather distraught, and some of the others have been treated for minor injuries, but otherwise they are all unharmed.”

Rhea finally took her hand away, and slumped into a chair she had placed next to the bed. “You gave me quite the fright, dear one. Pushing yourself like that… I would ask that you refrain from doing something like that again, unless it is absolutely necessary.” Byleth said nothing - Rhea was poking far too close for comfort, and she was _not_ going to screw this up now. Rhea sighed again, placing a hand on Byleth’s arm. “But… I am proud of you beyond measure. The power you have displayed, and the selflessness that defines you… It gives me hope.”

She was silent for a time, then spoke once more. “You will rest here tonight, and in the morning, you may visit with your students. I took the liberty of bringing the object you recovered, the Sword of the Creator, with us. From your students' reports, it seems that the Sword responded to your will… That is wonderful news. As such, I have decided to entrust it to you. Please, use it well in the future, for the sake of the Church and of all Fodlan.” She fell silent again, but before long, she began to sing Sothis’ song, and Byleth found herself slipping quickly into sleep, as if there were magic in the words.

\---

Edelgard paced between the window to the table in the infirmary in the early morning hours, agitated. How long was Rhea going to keep Byleth locked away up there? How could she have allowed herself to become separated from her? These and other (increasingly self-flagellating) thoughts raged in her mind, until a small chuckle behind her got her attention. Whirling, she saw that Dimitri was awake, and smiling. “El, you’re going to burn a groove into the floor, and Manuela will be quite upset…” She crossed over to his bed, taking a seat next to the chair that had just been vacated by Marianne. The Golden Deer healer was on her feet, checking over Dimitri’s bandaged body with an intense look in her eye, though her shoulders were trembling for some reason. 

She let out a shaky breath, before fixing her attention on Dimitri. “Why?” He looked up at her and tried to smile, although it turned into a grimace as Marianne began to cast a healing spell on him. “I assume you’re referring to the sword. I… My body simply moved. I didn’t consciously think about it. Though, I believe that even if I had the time to think it over, I likely still would have done the same thing.” She scoffed, but smiled. “You really are a fool… But, I suppose I’m lucky to have a fool like you for a brother.” Marianne stiffened, and Dimitri let out a weak laugh. “Ah, I suppose I should have said something earlier, so you wouldn’t have worried… Edelgard is my sister through marriage, nothing more.” The shy healer spoke so softly in response than Edelgard wasn’t able to make it out, but from the blush spreading on Dimitri’s cheeks, she figured that was for the best.

They were all saved from the awkwardness of the situation by a curt knock at the door. Several Blue Lions slipped inside the infirmary, but their names escaped Edelgard at the moment - there was the blue-haired swordsman with a bad attitude, the flirtatious redhead, and the blonde pegasus knight, as well as the white-haired giant from Duscur. Edelgard moved away from Dimitri’s bed to give them space, trying to recall their names as they chatted to their fallen prince. After a while, the swordsman, who she had just remembered was named Felix, walked over and spoke to her. “Why are you here? Feeling bad because the boar jumped in front of a sword for you?” Edelgard recognized a taunt when she heard one, but decided not to rise to it.

“Partially, yes. I’m also here because Byleth will be coming straight here once she’s free from Rhea’s… from Rhea.” Felix scoffed, but looked back towards Dimitri with less naked anger than she remembered him displaying. Neither of them spoke for a moment. Then, Felix cleared his throat. “Is it true?” He had a strange look on his face, and his hand rested on the hilt of his ceremonial sword uneasily. She shot him a confused look, which made him sigh exasperatedly. “There’s a rumor going around that your Professor used the Sword of the Creator in the Holy Mausoleum. Is it true?” She nodded, and watched as Felix’s knuckles went white on the grip.

Another knock, this time less severe-sounding, rang out. The door opened a crack, and Edelgard started as she saw a blue eye peeking inside. It was Byleth! As her teacher slipped inside and shut the door quietly, Edelgard couldn’t help herself, and she ran forward, embracing the blue-haired woman, letting out a shaky breath as she said her name. “Byleth…” She looked up, watching as Byleth’s eyes went from widened in surprise to crinkling at the sides as she smiled. She heard a snicker from near the bed, followed by a sharp gasp as the blonde pegasus knight, Ingrid, drove an elbow into the side of the redhead, Sylvain. Blushing, she reluctantly let Byleth out of the embrace, but put her hands on Byleth’s arms as she looked her up and down, checking for injuries. “How are you feeling? When Rhea said that you were going to be kept up there all night, I was so worried…” 

She shook her head, her hair whirling around. “I’m fine, El. I wasn’t hurt anywhere near as bad as Dimitri. The rest we can talk about later.” She nodded, blushing more as she turned back to the rest of the room. Dimitri gave her a quizzical look, likely confused to hear someone else calling her “El”. Byleth tried to slip around her to get over to the bed, but got caught on Edelgard’s half-cloak. As she looked down, she gasped - there on Byleth’s hip was the Sword of the Creator, though it was missing its crest stone. With a shiver, she realized that, were it not for Rhea’s intervention, _she_ would be able to wield its power for herself. She began to imagine it, her hand holding onto a maelstrom of fury and bone, whipping to and fro to decimate Thales and Solon...

Byleth went over to Dimitri’s bed, and bowed low. “Dimitri… I am so sorry. If I hadn't thrown my sword, you wouldn’t be in this mess. You even showed up to fight knowing next to nothing, and risked your life to save Edelgard. Words cannot express how grateful I am to you, and how sorry I am that you were injured because of me.” Dimitri winced in pain as he pushed himself up to a sitting position, aided by Marianne. He fixed his gaze on her, his icy blue eyes on her dark blue ones. “It’s fine, Professor. I knew you would keep your word… And besides, I’m just happy to have been of use.”

Byleth straightened up, but still looked melancholic. “I mean it, Dimitri. I never would have put you in that position willingly. If there’s anything I can do for you, all you need to do is ask.” Dimitri laughed, a little more forcefully than he had before. “I may take you up on that, Professor. But for the moment…” He looked around the room at his friends, at Marianne, and at Edelgard. “For the moment, I am content. I’ll keep doing what we talked about, and use that favor when you think I’m ready.” Byleth looked shocked, but broke into a smile. “Of course, Dimitri. I’m glad to hear it.” 

She stepped back, facing Edelgard. “Say… Would you mind coming with me? Seteth wanted to speak to me as soon as I was allowed to leave the third floor, and I could use some company.” She smiled nervously, and Edelgard of course agreed. The two of them said goodbye to Dimitri, and walked down the hall towards Seteth’s office. They could hear him shouting, apparently quite consternated, and exchanged a puzzled look before pushing his door open.

Edelgard didn’t exactly know what to expect, but it certainly wasn’t Claude, looking more smug than usual. He was seated in one of Seteth’s chairs, while the man himself was standing behind his desk, shaking in anger. Flayn stood to his right, and she looked torn between concern and amusement. Upon seeing the two of them enter, though, Seteth’s entire demeanor changed.

“Byleth! There you are! Perhaps you can talk some sense into this fool boy.” Byleth put her hands on her hips as Edelgard shut the door. “Claude. Why are you antagonizing Seteth? Didn’t I _specifically_ tell you not to do that?” Her hands glowed with magic, and she applied the Muffling spell to the room without taking her eyes off of Claude. He clicked his tongue. “You told me not to bother _Flayn_. You said nothing about Seteth.” The green-haired man let out a groan of frustration.

Byleth sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “What is this about?”

\---

Byleth barely held her anger in check. After a long night recovering, she didn’t have much patience to begin with, and Claude knew _exactly_ how to sap what little she had. Sothis appeared in the room, directing a glare that was lost on Claude’s unseeing eyes. “So… Let me get this straight. You told Seteth about the Wind Caller’s ruins, and then asked him ‘How’s the family doing?’, without once putting up Muffling wards. Is that all correct?” He nodded, adding “You forgot my friendly wink after I asked the question.”

She let her hand slip down from the pommel of the Sword of the Creator to its hilt. It blazed red at her side, and she reveled in the sudden fear that flooded Claude’s face. “Apparently I need to be more specific about who you are and aren’t allowed to spread your future knowledge to. Honestly, _what_ were you thinking?! Even if Seteth didn’t flay you alive, what if someone overheard you? What if _Solon_ overheard you? Did you even stop for a _moment_ to think about the potential consequences of your actions?”

Claude rallied quickly, though, and raised his hands in that infuriating mock surrender pose. Before he could speak, she hissed out “Do that again and I’ll give you something to actually surrender to.” He swallowed hard, and nodded. “Look… I get that you’re angry, but I did at least check first. And, well, you know I’m bad at magic. I couldn’t cast that spell even if I wanted to. Besides, I had a very good reason for all this.” Her fingers tapped rhythmically on the hilt of the Sword of the Creator, and she nodded for him to continue.

“When we went out there last time, the Wind Caller, or, if we’re dropping pretense, Macuil, refused to aid us. This despite having his brother and niece, as well as the… whatever you were, of Sothis herself. I did get a nice sword out of it, but that was hardly worth the effort of hoofing it all the way to Sreng and back. But, it occurred to me while waiting for you to get let out of Rhea’s greedy little claws that we have something this time that we never had back then. Sothis!” He raised his arms in a rhetorical flourish, and in spite of herself Byleth could feel a desire to smile. She kept her face perfectly neutral, though - Claude wasn’t getting a reward for this. Behind her, Edelgard gasped - she likely knew that Seteth and Flayn were not their true names, but this conversation was likely leading her to the correct conclusions about their identities as two of the Four Saints. She didn't have time to worry about that now, though. 

“I see. And instead of coming to talk to me about it first, you decided to bother Seteth.” Sothis had a strange look on her face, but Byleth was busy scolding at the moment. That could wait. Claude allowed a crestfallen look to peek through his mask briefly. “Look… I’m sorry I did things out of order, but you have to admit you’re curious. What if we could actually talk to him this time? What if he agreed to make us weapons, or something like that? Wouldn’t that be worth it?”

He had a point. Glancing next to her, she saw determination blooming on her goddess companion’s face. “Oh no. I know that look. What are you thinking, Sothis?” “ _I am thinking that if we take some wyverns from the monastery, we could be there and back within a week. Plenty of time before our travels take us north to Fraldarius._ ” She sighed, rubbing her eyes with her free hand. “You’re joking. You can’t seriously want to--” An annoyed huff cut her off.

“ _That is precisely what I intend to do. I want to go there, and speak to my son. Even if I do not remember him, I want to speak with him_.” Flayn jumped up, pure joy on her face. “You mean that we could go and meet Uncle, Grandmother?! That would be so much fun!” Seteth’s face paled, and he croaked out “Mother, please… Be reasonable.” Sothis put her hands on her hips, and shot him a look Byleth knew very well. “ _Cichol. Ready wyverns for each of you. We are going to Sreng, and that is final._ ” 

“Ugh… Sothis, this… Fine. It’s on your head if this goes south, though.” Turning to Seteth, Byleth tried to look apologetic. “She gets like this sometimes. I find it's better to just agree and move on, usually.” The green-haired man looked incredibly tired, and he hung his head for a moment. He sighed deeply, but eventually let out a very defeated “Yes, Mother…” He quickly got up and passed out of his office towards the wyvern aviary. Byleth chuckled, but quickly turned her attention to the task at hand. “Alright… Everyone, go get some travelling gear ready. Sothis estimated it’d be a week’s journey, round-trip, so pack accordingly. We’ll meet at the aviary. Flayn, if you would pack for Seteth as well…” Flayn bowed excitedly, and Byleth watched as the little green-haired girl practically bounced out of the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God I'm so bad at writing battle scenes! It doesn't help that this battle is kind of nothing in-game. As long as you have a rudimentary grasp of tactics (and don't try to fight the Death Knight), it's very hard to lose, much less lose a unit. Still, I wanted to be sure that this chapter saw Byleth cutting loose in front of the students again. It's been a while since they got to see her fighting closer to her full strength. And some very slight Edeleth and some Marianne/Dima (whatever that ship is called)? Sounds like fun to me.
> 
> I've had this idea in the works kinda since I realized I wanted Claude to have memories from a successful Golden Deer route. The only lead-in I had for it for the longest time was the phrase "Well you got *your* sword back. What about mine?", which has not yet appeared in the fic and probably actually won't because Claude is smart enough to know that presenting his desire to go to Sreng like that wouldn't work well.
> 
> Next time - Macuil the Wind Caller blows onto the scene
> 
> And merry Christmas, to those who observe it
> 
> Edited 01/03/21 for consistency and quality.


	23. Family Business

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new POV enters the mix as Byleth and company visit the Sreng Desert. Expect backstory, lore, cheap shots, and maybe a little philosophy from our favorite time traveler.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extremely lengthy notes at the bottom about etymology. Feel free to skip over them, it's a lot of rambling. There is a good art tumblr linked there, though.

Byleth was used to travelling light, so her packing was hardly going to be an ordeal at all. She was more concerned with what to do about the rest of her students than anything. With a tough fight against the crest beast Miklan would most likely be turning into ahead of them, they needed to be at the top of their game, and spending a week of their class time dawdling wasn’t a good or workable option. And yet, somehow she didn’t expect Hanneman or Manuela to be willing to help her out - she’d gotten Hanneman’s house leader injured, and was borrowing Manuela’s for the trip, after all. Then, it hit her, and she sprinted down the hall from Seteth’s office.

At this time of morning, Bereth could easily still be sleeping in, but she decided checking the library office was worth the time. Her whim was rewarded, as Bereth was just settling in as she arrived. “Wh- Sister? What are you doing here so early? And, should you even be up and about? Lady Rhea was beside herself with worry…” Byleth smiled, and shook her head. “I’m perfectly fine, Be. But… I do need a favor. How do you feel about teaching?”

\---

Seteth swept out of his office, flustered beyond belief. How could Mother be so obstinate about this? Had she no idea what kind of pressure this would put on him? Even as he had the thought, though, the calm, familiar voice of reason began dismantling his irrationality. Of _course_ she didn’t know - how could she? All she knew is that she wanted to see Macuil, not about Church responsibilities that would have to be shifted around her desires. And of _course_ he would do as she asked, even if it meant lying to Seiros. His eldest sister could be terrifying when roused to anger, but when weighed against the chance to spend time with Mother, Cethleann, and Macuil? That was a priceless gift, even if he couldn’t physically _see_ Mother himself. 

He hummed to himself as he ascended the stairs towards the third floor, his feet guiding him towards the archbishop’s study that Seiros had used under so many names. His thoughts turned to the events in his office, and he almost fell into the familiar trap of brooding. Mother always cared for him, as her eldest, but _sainted_ Macuil could do no wrong. He very nearly let out a childish huff as he stopped in front of the door, but instead he simply shook his head to clear his thoughts. He needed to be convincing right now. He knocked at the study door, speaking firmly. “Lady Rhea, might I have a word?” “Enter”, came Seiros’ reply, a hint of mirth in her voice.

She sat at her desk, surrounded by books, and looked up at him expectantly. He shut the door behind him, and briefly considered using young Bereth’s Muffling spell before thinking better of it. While he might use Cethleann’s name in private, Seiros was very particular about her identity, and he couldn’t help but agree with her desire for secrecy. He would only ever speak her name to her in emergencies, no matter how much his heart ached for a lack of it. A small smile played at her lips, though it took him a moment to realize why she was so pleased with herself. Then, it hit him. She, of course, knew what she had done to Byleth, and Byleth’s attunement to the Sword of the Creator was a sign that her work was bearing fruit. He pushed those thoughts down - he did not need to chastise her right now, but instead _use_ that little seed of joy in her heart.

“I have something to ask of you, Lady Rhea.” She cocked her head slightly, though the motion was far less noticeable when she was not wearing her headdress. “Oh? It is rather early for your monthly flight.” She smiled at him - of course she would assume that he wanted her permission to leave the monastery for a night and fly with his wyvern. He did so once every moon, as it kept him in tune with the skies he could no longer soar in himself, and allowed him to collect his thoughts. Though… he could use this assumption to their advantage. “It is, but I have decided to amend it somewhat, in light of recent events.”

A calculating stare was Seiros’ only reply, and he took her silence as a sign to continue speaking. “I wish to borrow Professor Eisner, take her to one of my most remote locations, and train her. To wield the Sword of the Creator is an incredible responsibility, and I would not see her acting merely on instinct when we have need of her in the future.” Seiros frowned. “I see. While I admit that this plan has some merit, I do not like the idea of you spiriting her away from any and all aid. Her body is not yet fully attuned to the Sword - what would happen if she was overcome by your training?”

Seteth smiled. “I had also planned to bring Flayn for just such an occasion. She has been begging to come on one of my flights for years now, and I can see no better opportunity than this.” He waited, anxiously, as Seiros tented her fingers. She had closed her eyes, and he knew better than to interrupt her while she was deep in thought. Finally, she opened them again, fixing him with a piercing stare. “For how long?” Ah. This would be the detail that truly tested her patience. “A week at most. Several days of training, and a little travel time on both ends. I can ensure that her responsibilities are taken care of before we set out.” Across the desk from him, he heard a low growl emanating from Seiros, followed by a small sigh. 

“One week. And I will expect a full demonstration of your efforts when you both return.” He bowed, and quickly excused himself. Now to ready the wyverns. Pebbles would be pleased to fly in a group for once.

\---

The dawn of their third day out from Garreg Mach broke gloriously. The sun peaked up over the horizon, and from his place on the rather ill-mannered wyvern Seteth had given him, Claude could see for miles ahead. Sreng’s desert was vast, and last time they had approached from the south instead of coming up from Faerghus, but he soon was able to spot the telltale stonework of the Wind Caller’s temple. He called out to his companions, who were flying in a wide formation to better spot the ruins, and pointed downwards. The four wyverns touched down gently next to an oasis, and after Seteth mumbled something to their draconic mounts, they began marching through the sands towards the ruined temple in the distance. Seteth and Flayn visibly stiffened the closer they got - they could clearly sense something he couldn’t.

He sighed - perhaps he ought to try to smooth things over with the two of them? “Say, Seteth, did I actually ever tell you about our trip out here?” Seteth said nothing, but eyed him curiously. “Well, it was quite the adventure, let me tell you. The Wind Caller had a bunch of summoned guardians, kinda like those phantom soldiers Rhea has hidden any place important in the monastery. Though, we _were_ spared the weird armored dolls. Just had to deal with giant sandworms. There were some thieves trying to steal artifacts when we arrived, but we took care of them.”

He ran his hand through his hair, careful not to dislodge his braid. “Then, we got inside. Fighting the Wind Caller was a hell of an experience. I sure would hate to see what he was like at his prime.” Flayn looked confused and worried. “Was Uncle hurt before you fought?” Seteth sighed, and responded for Claude. “He was likely exhausted. I can’t imagine that he has been keeping well out here.” Claude nodded. “Actually, the two of you were here that time. You talked to him some. He’s, uh… A bit murderously angry at humanity. Hopefully the fact that we’re not in the middle of a continent-spanning war will make him a touch less so.”

Seteth winced, then nodded wearily, obviously remembering something unpleasant. “Macuil grew disgusted with humans during the War of Heroes. He despises the Ten Elites, and… well, I should not be surprised if he will hate you, as well.” Claude barked out a laugh. “Yeah, he could smell the Riegan blood in me. Sure wanted to get it out of me, too.” Byleth cocked her head upwards, and Claude noticed the other three looking in the same direction. After a moment, Byleth spoke. “Sothis said that she doesn’t know whether Macuil will listen to her or not, but that you should probably stay at a safe distance while they talk.” He sighed in frustration, but nodded. “Fine by me. I can just go and find my sword, then.”

Seteth looked at him suspiciously. “What sword?” Claude stared back, watching for his reactions as he started speaking. “You called it the Sword of Begalta last time. It responds to my blood, thus, my sword.” Seteth scoffed at him. “Ignorance. One of the greater consequences of the lies we have told…” A pained look crossed his face, and Flayn gripped him in a tight hug. 

“That blade was created by Macuil for one of our sisters. All the sacred weapons the Church holds dear were his handiwork - the Sword and Shield of Seiros, my own Spear of Assal and Ochain Shield, Flayn’s Caduceus Staff… There were bows, as well, one for Indech, and one for our sister Nessa, whose blood was taken by the one of the Elites, Lamine. It used arrows with heavy stone heads that could pierce castle walls, if memory serves. Then, there was the greataxe for Tuireann, whose blood was taken by Gloucester, and the matched swords for the twins Diarmuid and Grainne. Diarmuid’s blood was taken by Fraldarius, and Grainne’s--” “Riegan.”

Seteth met Claude’s eyes, pain and sadness evident. Claude sighed. “I’m sorry. I never knew. I wouldn’t have been so flippant about it if I had.” Seteth breathed in deeply, before saying “It is fine. You had no way of knowing, as I doubt I would have been anywhere near this forthcoming in your time. But please… You have knowledge you should not have - be mindful that behind every Crest in the Kingdom and Alliance is nothing but pain. The Elites were monstrous men, and they committed horrible acts. You cannot help your blood, but by all that is holy, be _better_ than it.”

They walked in silence for a time. Claude’s mind was racing - he knew that that was how crests _worked_ on a basic level, but he had never really stopped to consider that each of the crests of the Ten Elites was, at one point, the life blood of a real, living person. Dragons were people too, even if the ones near him now were likely to either bore, annoy, or devour him, depending on which one was in question. Suddenly, Byleth threw out a hand, causing everyone to stop in place. The temple loomed in front of them, as large as he remembered it. “We’re here. Let Sothis, Seteth, and Flayn do the talking. Edelgard, Claude, stand back.” Her voice was even, but Claude could detect the smallest hint of fear.

\---

As they passed through the threshold of the ruined temple, Byleth got a good look at Macuil’s dragon form. While he was undeniably draconic, his form had a lot of additions to the basic design she understood Rhea’s form to be. His face ended in a sharp beak, and his wings were feathered instead of leathery and smooth. His tail was a strange, tangled mess of hair. His eyes - a familiar shade of green with a black slit for a pupil - watched their party carefully as they walked towards him. His gaze lingered on Flayn, his pupils widening as they took in her appearance. 

Edelgard and Claude stopped several paces behind them, and Byleth, Seteth, and Flayn halted about five meters from Macuil, who was reclining in a sunny patch on the stone floor. For a time, none of them spoke. Then, Sothis floated forward, stopping near to Macuil’s face. She looked back at them, nervously, before turning back to him and speaking his name. “ _Macuil_.”

Macuil reared back at the sound of his name, wings fanning outwards. He scanned the room frantically. She sighed. “ _So, you cannot see me either, can you? Cichol has the same issue._ ” Macuil’s eyes snapped to the place her voice came from, but there was no recognition in his eyes. “M… Mother? How can it be?” Seteth stepped forward. “It is indeed her, dear brother. We are here because she insisted on coming to find you.” Macuil looked him in the face, a low growl emanating from his chest. “You brought with you the blood of those detestable Elites? What are you playing at, Cichol?”

“He also brought me, Uncle! Hello!” Flayn rushed forward, jumped onto Macuil’s foreleg and hugged it. “Ah… Cethleann. Hello there, little one. It is… it does my heart good to see you awake again.” He snaked his head down, nuzzling Flayn’s body carefully. Raising it again, he fixed Byleth with an odd stare. “You… You are familiar, yet not. Who are you?” Byleth gave him a stiff bow. “My name is Byleth Eisner, and the reason I am familiar is because I am the host of Sothis’ heart.”

Macuil cocked his head to the side, looking for a moment like a confused dog. Byleth pushed down her desire to laugh as hard as she could, and sighed. “It’s a long story to fully tell, but to give you the most important details… Seiros has been trying different methods to bring Sothis back bodily into the world. My mother was a created vessel of hers, and my father received a large amount of Seiros’ own blood to save him from death when he was young. When I was born, I was a stillbirth, and my mother pleaded with Seiros to transfer her heart, the Crest Stone, into mine. She did so, and I was brought to life. The combination of my father, with Seiros’ blood and human flesh, and my mother, with artificial flesh and Sothis’ heart, was enough to allow Sothis’ consciousness to be reborn alongside me. Sothis grew stronger as I did, eventually waking up, though most of her memories are gone. We have been companions for many years now, which has allowed me knowledge that I shouldn’t have… Like the knowledge of who Seiros is, for example.” She rubbed the back of her head, a little nervous to use Rhea’s true name so openly.

Macuil was silent for a while, making a rumbling noise in his chest. Then, he spoke. “So, she dabbled in forbidden magicks and actually succeeded? How irritating.” Seteth chuckled. “If you want for more irony, Seiros can neither see nor hear Mother. She does not know that she has been playing host to her for the past four months.” Macuil let out an odd grinding sound, his head twitching. Byleth watched in confusion, before realizing that he was _laughing_. “Some ‘Voice of the Goddess’ she has proven to be… Oh, my. I have not laughed in centuries.”

He moved his head closer, so that he could stare at Byleth. She stared back, tracing the patterns in his iris. “So… You are Sothis’ host, are you? You seem to be more than that, and yet…” She scuffed her boot on the ground. “Well… I suppose that I am more than that. In every lifetime I have lived, there has come a time where Sothis and I fused our souls together. I inherit her power, but her consciousness disappears. We haven’t done that yet this time, obviously, but…” 

Macuil blinked. “You bear her ability to control the flow of time?” Byleth nodded. “Curious.”

Sothis chimed in now, content that she had let her children reunite for a moment. “ _Macuil. It is so good to see you. As Byleth has said, I do not remember much of my former life, but… Seeing you brings back such a powerful flood of emotions. My son…_ ” Macuil stared at Byleth as if she were hiding Sothis within her, a hum coming from his chest now. “It is good to hear your voice once more, Mother. After the Holy Tomb, I… I worried that I would never hear it again. But… I must ask. _Why_ have you come?”

Sothis blinked, then huffed in frustration, placing her hands on her hips. “ _I came to tell you, Macuil, that Agartha still exists! Our fight is not yet over! Its remnants are deep underground in Fodlan, and they have been working to destroy the rest of my children while you and Indech have been in seclusion. I trust you know what I am going to ask of you?_ ” Byleth watched in surprise as Macuil balked, pulling back in on himself.

“But… But, Mother! I swore never to return to the world of humans. They disgust me so… And Seiros would be livid if I showed up unannounced.” Seteth stepped forward. “Allow me to handle her, Macuil. I have served as Seiros’ advisor for several decades now, and she believes that I orchestrated this journey to help Byleth train. I will just have to find a convincing lie to explain why I journeyed to Sreng with her, and all will be well. So long as you adopt a cover identity, and agree to uphold the, ah, history which she has created in Fodlan, I know that she will come around.” More softly, he added, "She misses you. We all do."

“Uh… Teach? You sure that’s a good idea?” Claude’s voice rang out through the temple, and they all turned to look at him in shock. Byleth had actually forgotten about Claude for a moment. “I’m not saying that getting him on our side isn’t a good thing, but coming to the monastery? It’s gonna be a little tricky to hide a dragon.” Edelgard nodded. “Much as I hate to agree with him, Claude has a point. Ma… Er, Sir Macuil? Lord Macuil?” She shook her head. “Either way - can you assume a human form, as Seteth and Flayn have?” The two of them noticeably stiffened as Edelgard casually named them as dragons in human form, but said nothing.

Macuil growled, displaying his unease at speaking to people outside of his family. “I can, little Seiros-bearer. I suppose that makes you a descendant of that fool Wilhelm?” He made a guttural noise, and Sothis cried out “ _Macuil! Watch your language!_ ” just as Seteth covered Flayn’s ears. “I will never forgive him for courting Seiros. As if an insect like him could… Ah.” His eyes found Flayn, and his growl vanished. “Apologies, Cethleann. I did not mean to… Apologies. We all loved your mother dearly, and I would not presume to speak ill of her as I curse Wilhelm.” Byleth cocked her head, and Seteth mouthed “ _Later_ ”. Edelgard let out a small gasp, which caught Macuil’s attention. Suddenly, his eyes widened.

He shot his head over to Edelgard, inhaling deeply. “You… What _are_ you? You smelt first of Seiros, and now…” He cocked his head. “What was done to you, child?” Edelgard stared him in the eye without flinching or looking away, which filled Byleth with pride. “I suffered at the hands of the enemy Sothis spoke of. I am helping to fight against them, as we hope you will.” Macuil retracted his head, slowly, then stood to his full height.

“Very well. Though it is against my better judgment… If Agartha still lives, I will burn it to ashes once more. You all may count on me.” He closed his eyes, and disappeared in a flash of green light. In his place, stood a man in long, blue robes with swirling gold designs on them, adorned at the collar with griffon feathers. He had a wild, bushy mane of green hair, a shade lighter than Seteth’s, and a rather dour face. He coughed, and stretched his arms and legs experimentally. “I have not assumed this guise in many years… It feels odd.” At the sound of a giggle behind him, he whirled around. Flayn was barely holding in her laughter. Macuil quirked an eyebrow at her.

“Oh… My apologies, Uncle! It is just… Well… Your _hair!_ ” She giggled more. “Would you allow me to braid it for you? It would only take a moment…” Macuil looked towards Seteth in desperation, only to find his brother smirking back at him. His shoulders dropped a fraction of an inch, and he sighed. “Of course, Cethleann. Let me sit, and you can… assist me.” While she worked, Macuil peered around at his new-found allies. Eventually, he locked eyes with Edelgard. “You there, human child. What does Seiros’ history know me as?”

Edelgard looked a bit affronted, and Byleth spoke up. “Her _name_ , Macuil, is Edelgard. His is Claude. I suggest learning them.” She put her hands on her hips, and somewhere behind her, Sothis giggled. Macuil looked sufficiently cowed, though, as he looked downwards. “Apologies.” Edelgard strode forward, standing just in front of him. “It’s alright. You are known to history as Saint Macuil, the craftsman, mage, and tactician who led the armies of Seiros in the War of Heroes.” He nodded.

“That is well, then. I shall simply adopt the name I bore while wandering. In the monastery, refer to me as Ethur.” All present acknowledged the name. Seteth drew close to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Very well, then, _Ethur_. You must learn, then, to speak of me as Seteth, Cethleann as Flayn, and Seiros as Rhea. Those are the names we have used for quite some time, though they may change again as the years go by. Only speak our true names when we are well and truly isolated.” Macuil - _no, Ethur_ , Byleth corrected herself - nodded. 

Soon, with his hair managed more presentably in a long back braid that left enough in front and at the sides to cover his pointed ears, Ethur stood. “We will bring back several artifacts that Se-- that Rhea, rather, will enjoy.” He hummed. “You, Riegan boy. Claude?” Claude jumped a little at suddenly being addressed, and responded “Yes, your Saintliness?” Ethur glared at him for a moment, before sighing. “Since you bear our sister’s blood, her blade will serve you. Take it.” He knelt down, grabbing a familiar shape - the Sword of Begalta. “She would be proud to have her blade taste Agarthan blood once again. Treat it well.”

\---

The flight back to the monastery was, all told, fairly uneventful. Seteth was only slightly put out that Cethleann had abandoned him to ride with Mac-- Ethur. He shook his head. This would be harder than he thought. Edelgard had given up her wyvern for Ethur to ride on, and was now riding with Byleth. Their faces looked a bit red from here, and somehow he doubted it was the whipping wind. He made a mental note to talk to her about improper fraternization, then gasped as Ethur’s wyvern dove down through the clouds below them in a steep descent. It whipped back upwards, and he heard joyful, childish laughter pealing from it as Cethleann cried out “Again, Uncle, again!” He smiled, in spite of himself. Seeing her so joyful was worth all the grief he was going to receive when he spoke to Seiros. 

They arrived close to sundown on the 2nd of the Verdant Rain Moon, slightly ahead of schedule. Their journey had only taken them six days, rather than the seven Sothis estimated. Seteth wondered if she had built in an entire _day_ purely for convincing Macuil to return with them. Garreg Mach’s air patrols guided them in, and he spotted several quizzical looks at the new green-haired figure they had with them. Thank goodness he had convinced Flayn to get on Pebbles for the approach to the monastery. As they touched down in the wyvern aviary, his eyes locked on a sight he had hoped desperately not to see - dressed in all her finery, with a look of barely-suppressed anger, stood Seiros.

He sighed internally, feeling as Cethleann tightened her grip on his arm. Seiros’ voice carried throughout the aviary. “Seteth. I see your _training mission_ went well.” Her eyes lingered over Macuil, scanning his face like she wanted to remember it forever, before returning to glare at Seteth.

He cleared his throat. “Indeed, Lady Rhea. Professor Eisner has become quite proficient with the Sword of the Creator since we set out. During her training, we were approached by an unexpected guest, and now have a new ally. This is Ethur. I understand that he boasts the skills of a mortal savant.” _Or immortal, as the case may be_.

Seiros thankfully took his words at face value for now. She gave a small dip of her head to Macuil, before saying “Welcome, Ethur. If Seteth has vouched for your skills, that is endorsement enough. Welcome to Garreg Mach Monastery. I am the Archbishop of the Church of Seiros, Rhea.”

She sighed, softly. The presence of guards in the aviary was an unintended boon in keeping her wrath in check. “Flayn, dear, would you mind leading our newest ally to the audience chamber? I shall arrive to speak with him shortly. Seteth… I would request a word.” He swallowed hard, and nodded. “Of course, Lady Rhea. I am ever your faithful servant.” That Seiros managed not to scoff at that sentence was a testament to her willpower.

Just then, Seteth heard Sothis whispering to Byleth. She had a concerned look on her face, and Byleth nodded slightly when the whispering ended. Stepping forward and giving a small bow, she spoke. “Lady Rhea, if I might say something… The presence of students on this mission was my fault, not Seteth’s. I insisted that Edelgard come along, and Claude provided me with compelling arguments that swayed me to include him, as well. If you plan on, ah… speaking to him about that, please keep that in mind.”

Seiros looked as though she had been slapped, and stood rooted to the spot, blinking. Finally, she remembered her voice. “I… I see. And I assume that Seteth’s insistence on the training mission occurring allowed you to leverage this?” Byleth nodded, and Seiros let out a long, weary sigh. “I see. Thank you for telling me this. Now then… if you and your chosen students would meet me in the training grounds in an hour’s time? I desire to see your skills first-hand.” She nodded, and filed out of the aviary with Edelgard and Claude in tow. Claude gave him a sympathetic look on the way out.

“Leave us.” Seiros dropped all pretense of polite speech, and the aviary guards left immediately. Seteth put up a hand. “Before we begin this, might I offer privacy?” Seiros cocked her head to the side, but said nothing. Calling on his long-neglected magic, Seteth placed four Muffling sigils on the ground - the concept had been simple once Bereth explained it to him - and cast the activation spell. “There. Now we may speak without fear of being overheard, courtesy of Dean Bereth.”

“Explain. _Now_.” Seiros’ eyes changed in an instant, circular pupils shifting into slits as she radiated power. Seteth looked at her in as neutral of a way as he could, but did not disengage from her stare. “Would you prefer I said that he found us, or the other way around? The truth is a little of both.” She folded her arms, tapping a long, slender finger on her arm. 

“I have heard rumors that Macuil’s divine form had been seen by travelers in Sreng for years now. With this much time dedicated to my leave, I decided to check up on the rumors while training Professor Eisner. Much to my immense satisfaction, we did indeed find him. I have taken proper steps to ensure that both his identity and ours are safe, though he…” Seteth sighed. It was time to push back, at long last. “I trust you remember Macuil’s particular ability when it came to humans?”

Seiros’ eyes widened in shock. It took her several moments to regain composure completely, which meant she knew exactly where this conversation was going.

“What did he tell you? What did he say to her?” Seteth risked a small smile. “Your questions reveal the answer to ones that I have had for a while. But, I will answer yours before I present mine. He told me that she was one of the Changed, that he felt Mother within her, in a far different way from Nemesis. He said nothing to her of it. Which leads me to my question… What did you do to her, Seiros?”

She looked away, gazing out at the open sky. In spite of herself, she smiled. “So… It _has_ worked, then?” Seteth cleared his throat. “No word shall pass my lips to her, or to anyone, but I must know, Seiros. What dark arts did you use to place Mother’s heart into that woman? _Why_ _did you do this_?” She looked down to the ground, and tears began to fall from her eyes. “Mother… Soon, we can see each other again…”

He left the aviary ten minutes later, horrified at the depths of his sister’s obsession.

\---

Several days later, Byleth found herself walking through the cathedral, when she came across Ethur, standing rooted in place, his eyes on the ceiling. She walked up to him, and he grunted in acknowledgement of her presence. She shifted her eyes upwards, and noticed for the first time that a fresco was painted on the ceiling of the cathedral. She stared up at it, taking in the details. In the center was obviously Sothis, though quite a bit more grown-up, with strange wings stretched out from her sides. She looked downwards, towards Rhea’s dragon form, the Immaculate one. Flanking it on the left and right were four dragons. She realized with a start that the one on the far right was absolutely Macuil’s dragon form. Below them, hooded and cloaked figures looked on in prayer and adoration to the center. Below the Immaculate One, and thus below Sothis, was a figure kneeling in prayer, holding the Sword of Seiros. Ringing the fresco were the designs of the Crests. Several were damaged beyond visibility, but she counted twenty-one in total.

She stood in silence as Ethur stared upwards for a moment longer, before he sighed. “The wings are a bit much. Sister was never much for art.” She felt her eyes widen. “Is that otherwise a good representation of Sothis?” He nodded. “I would wager that her face was never quite that soft, and she would have burned that ridiculous robe, but… Yes.” Sothis giggled, causing Ethur to jump. He spoke quietly, not wanting to attract attention. “Please, Mother. Memories or no, you should now know that I hate being startled.” Sothis appeared in front of them, smiling widely. “ _But that makes it fun! You simply must loosen up more, my dear Macuil._ ”

He chuckled bitterly at that. “I do not think that possible. But I will try for you.” Sothis huffed.

Ethur fidgeted in place uncomfortably. “Were your hair and eyes a different color, you could have been her twin, you know. It is… unsettling.” Byleth stared up at him in confusion. “You’re saying that I look like Sothis did?” He nodded. Silence passed between them again, but she broke it shortly thereafter. “Well… I don’t know if you meant it as a compliment or not, but thank you.” He opened his mouth to speak several times, before simply nodding. 

“Ah, I forgot to tell you. After my monthly briefings with Rhea, I assemble a group of… like-minded individuals. I would be glad for you to join us, but I understand if you want time to acclimate. Everyone in my group has rather, ah… Strong personalities, shall we say.” He nodded again, which brought out a chuckle from nowhere in her. She put a hand to her mouth in surprise. “Sorry. I don’t know what came over me. It’s just… You were far more talkative while trying to kill us in previous encounters. Seeing you so taciturn is strange.”

His expression softened. “...did I hurt the people you loved? I know Mother’s power allows for things to be changed, but…” Byleth sighed. “I won’t lie and say that you didn’t, but that was in times when the continent was at war. I don’t blame you for being disgusted by us and lashing out.” He shook his head. “I am sorry. Mother spoke very little of what would occur before she had to use that power, but I know it weighed on her heart, as it does yours.” She gave him a small smile. “Thank you. It’s kind of you to worry. But, I have been at this for a very long time. It takes a lot to truly bother me.”

He stared at her, and eventually returned her smile. “You are strong. But you need not lie about your strength to me.” He spun on his heel, preparing to walk out. “Another time, Professor.”

\---

Four days later, on the 10th of Verdant Rain, Byleth walked out of the stuffy audience chamber. Rhea had called her in earlier to inform her of her class’ mission - it was finally time to go after Miklan and his band of thieves up in Fraldarius territory. She planned on assembling her group later. For now, she had business to attend to. She knew who needed to come along, even if it was going to end in bloodshed.

She found her target in the Knights’ Hall, watching the fire dance in the fireplace. He was a million miles away, likely thinking about time spent in the bottom of a well, or alone on a cold mountainside in the dead of winter. Byleth reached out her hand, placing it softly on the redheaded cavalier’s shoulder. He jumped, surprised to find her there, and quickly tried to pull his philandering mask on. She gave him a look, and said “Don’t.” He shrugged, and turned back towards the fire.

“So… I heard the news. Guess your house got picked to go clean up my family’s mess, eh Professor? I... “ He sighed. “I can’t believe he’s the leader of these bandits. I mean… Gautier is my home… and his. I can’t believe he’d steal the Relic and do all of this.” His shoulder shook a little, but he held firm, as best he could.

“Sylvain. I know that this is difficult for you, and don’t lie to me and tell me that you’re fine with it. But… I wanted to know if you wanted to come with us. I can’t promise you a clean resolution like what happened with Ashe, but I can at least try.” Sylvain stared at her for a moment, trying to find out where the catch was. Upon finding none, he sighed very deeply, and sank down into the couch. “I don’t know. I don’t know if I want that to happen. He’s… he’s garbage, Professor. He’s hurt the people of Faerghus, women and children… I don’t know if he deserves it. But…”

“But he’s still family, yeah?” Sylvain nodded, wordlessly.

“What do you think makes a person worth saving, Sylvain?” He looked up, shooting her a confused look. “Is there some inherent quality about people that makes every life precious? Are only certain people worth trying to save, or does everyone deserve second, third, or more chances? Is there a limit to how much you can reasonably be expected to forgive?” Byleth sat down next to him, gazing into the fire and ignoring the increasingly bewildered stare he had fixed her with.

“I don’t know the answers to those questions myself, but I’ve been trying to find out for a while now. It certainly has nothing to do with crests or a lack thereof.” Sylvain sucked in a sharp breath. “But it’s easy to see how they’ve forced us into this kind of situation.” Silence reigned for a minute or two.

“Do you want to know my working theory?” She finally looked over, meeting Sylvain’s eyes. “I think that there are some people who deserve to die, who would never, ever accept the idea of atoning for their actions and changing who they are, what they do, or what they believe. But I also think that those people might be a lot fewer and further between than you might imagine. I mourn for the people I’m unable to give a chance to make that choice... Which do you think Miklan is?”

Sylvain was quiet for a long time. “I don’t know. I think… I want to believe that somewhere in there, there’s good in him. But after how he treated me my whole life, and how he’s been acting… all that he’s done? I don’t know if that matters.” Byleth nodded. “It does, because it’s important to you.”

The fireplace crackled, and the general hubbub of the Knights’ Hall echoed around them as they both stared into the flickering tongues. “Would you be able to stand by and watch if I came to a different conclusion than you?” Sylvain froze. 

“I guess we’d have to find out, wouldn’t we?” He gave her a grim smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoo boy. There's a lot to unpack here. First of all, apologies about the delay in this coming out. I've kept a very tight schedule for this fic (in that I don't have one and just write something every day), and I got *extremely* distracted over the past couple days - I started a new run of Awakening where I plan to S-rank Chrom!Inigo with Robin, which turned into me writing fifteen pages of a fic meant to follow Inigo from the ruined future, to Awakening, to Fates. It's very sad. He's not going to make smart choices about who he loves, ever. If anyone is interested I may post it, thought it's mostly just been for me to channel angst into.
> 
> Now, this fic. Seteth is a lot of fun for me to sink into the head of character-wise. He's a lot more kind and considerate than he lets on at first, as we all know, but he's also not completely devoted to Rhea. In this story, where he's already had a higher authority asserted (i.e. Mom), he's much more willing to take risks and defy Rhea than he would have been otherwise. Also, it's fun to write from his perspective any time the dragons come up, because calling them by their real names is fun to me.
> 
> And man oh man is he good for lore dumps. I've had this idea kicking around that the sacred weapons were all made for the Nabateans during their war with Agartha, before Sothis entered her restorative sleep after healing the land. I did a lot of hemming and hawing and picking around in Irish mythology to settle on more names for the Nabateans, because SO MUCH of Three Houses, including the names of the Nabateans we know of and their weaponry/the weaponry made from them, is from Irish mythology (with the exception of Seiros and Sothis, who are both named for the star Sirius). Seriously though there's so much in Three Houses that is etymologically just a grab bag of names from Irish legends. I'll just go through the names I gave to the Nabateans for now, though.
> 
> \- Nessa: a princess from the Ulster cycle of Irish mythology, much of her story has to do with the various men who tried to (and did) marry her, and the powerful children she bore. Connecting her to Lamine in my mind connected her to the fate of Mercedes and Emile, and how they were used for power's sake by others.  
> \- Tuireann: this one is a lot less poetic. He's linked to the Celtic god Taranis, despite his place in Irish mythology being fairly normal (if having children by Brigid and dying of grief atop his sons' graves after Lugh takes revenge on his family is normal). The axe in question from Three Houses, the Axe of Ukonvasara, is the weapon of the Finnish thunder god Ukko. Thunder god, thunder god, Irish name. You get the idea.  
> \- Diarmuid and Grainne: lovers from an Irish story called "The Pursuit of Diarmuid and Gráinne", which involves a tragic love triangle between Diarmuid, Grainne, and one Finn MacCool (yes, that is is his name), the aged hero of the Fenian cycle of Irish mythology. Among other things, Diarmuid had two named swords: Móralltach, Great Fury, and Beagalltach, Little Fury. Those two are where the names Moralta and Begalta come from in their respective swords. I changed Diarmuid and Grainne from doomed lovers to twins  
> \- Ethur: this one is easy - it's just the given name of Macuil's namesake, one of the joint High Kings of Ireland who killed Lugh.
> 
> In reference to Seteth's "Later.", I will say that that is a moment that happens off-screen, as it were. I like the idea that Flayn is a half-manakete, rather than full-blooded. But in a Nah kind of way, not a Corrin kind of way. Seteth's human wife charming all of his siblings makes me feel very comfy. It also plays off the theory that Seiros and Wilhelm were lovers.
> 
> I based Macuil's human form almost entirely off of art I saw of the Four Saints from https://herukas.tumblr.com/. If, for some reason, Indech were to show up in this fic, he would also use this general appearance. There's also a lot of very comfy art of the Saints as a family, and adult Sothis being mom. Highly recommended!
> 
> The fresco! I've been looking for a spot to put it in, and where better than a church ceiling? For those curious to see the actual image, it's this one, which is official art: https://static.wikia.nocookie.net/fireemblem/images/5/57/Church_of_Seiros.png/revision/latest?cb=20200511040846
> 
> Seteth's wyvern being named Pebbles is something that Seteth's English voice actor, Mark Whitten, said. He guested on Joe Zieja's streamed playthrough of Three Houses, and was asked the question of what Seteth would name his wyvern during their Q&A segment. You can view that clip here: https://clips.twitch.tv/TiredWealthyShrimpKeepo
> 
> Edited 01/03/21 for consistency and quality. In particular, I edited the birth order of the Saints. Seteth is the big brother, not Seiros.


	24. Swapping Stories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of fluff, a lot of training, and some well-deserved plotting. The Black Eagles are getting ready for their mission to storm Conand Tower, and Byleth finds herself pulled in a thousand directions. The life of a time-travelling immortal attempting to create the perfect timeline is harder than she thought it would be.

Byleth lazed in bed in the early morning of the 11th of Verdant Rain. The telltale sound and smell wafting in announced that the month’s namesake was here in force. She sighed, listening to the quiet patter of rain on the stone path outside her room. Rain was always good to calm her heart, but it did tend to make her… 

“ _Introspective? Melancholic_?” Sothis winked into view, settling in next to her on her little academy bed. Byleth watched her with interest, but eventually gave a small nod of acknowledgement. “I like to think about past regrets when it rains, even if that sometimes puts me in a bad mood.” Sothis hummed in response, but said nothing for a while.

“ _Are you thinking of anything in particular_?” Her voice was soft, and if Byleth didn’t know any better she would have sworn the rain was lulling her goddess friend to sleep. She smiled, and took a deep breath. “Dancing.”

Sothis cocked an eyebrow at her. “ _Dancing_ ”, she repeated, a hint of amusement in her voice. “ _And whyever is that? You know that the ball is not for nearly five months. Or are you_ already _planning how to sweep your love off her feet in front of everyone_?” She giggled to herself, but Byleth said nothing, eyes on her window. 

After an extended silence, Byleth turned her head to look at Sothis directly. “Have you ever thought about what Rhea did? Making me a vessel for you to take over?” Sothis’ little smile vanished. “ _I_ _have. It is not an idea that I enjoy thinking about._ ” Byleth hummed, then stretched her arms out, scraping the adjoining wall to Dedue’s room lightly. “Do you think that possessing my body would be a permanent thing, if you did it? Or could we swap back and forth?”

Sothis stared at her in confusion. “ _Why would you even ask such a question? What a strange mind you have…_ ” Still, she looked pensive. Byleth pressed her. “I’m not suggesting I want to abandon control of my body to you forever and let you try to save everyone for once… I’m just curious if we could do it temporarily.”

Sothis looked upwards and away from her, deep in thought. Neither woman said anything for a while, and Byleth listened to the rain, twirling a strand of her hair around her finger absent-mindedly. Finally, Sothis gave a small hum to acknowledge that she had finished thinking. “ _I believe that, so long as we did not stay in that state for too long, it could be done safely… But why do you ask_?”

A wide smile crept onto Byleth’s face.

\---

A knock rang out at her door. It was still early, and the gentle sound of the rain tapping on the roof above made Edelgard want to turn over, ignoring her unexpected early guest, her responsibilities, and her cares… Oh to sleep in on a rainy day! The knock came again, though, and Edelgard resigned herself to cruel, uncaring reality, which had no time for idleness in the rain. Sighing, Edelgard stood, and carefully checked her appearance in the mirror. She always slept in presentable enough clothes, though if her unexpected guest were anyone aside from Hubert she would, for propriety’s sake, need to throw a robe on over her nightgown. She ran her fingers through her hair, straightening out some of the errant kinks and tangles that had developed overnight, then nodded to herself.

She was greeted, upon cracking the door open, to Byleth and Sothis, smiling like hyenas. Byleth was wearing a gigantic poncho, and she couldn’t even see her arms under it. “I… Byleth? What are you doing here so early?” Her teacher and her goddess exchanged a glance, and Byleth simply replied “We had an idea, and wanted to see if you’d be willing to help with something. Can we come in? I promise you’ll enjoy it.” Confusion flooded Edelgard’s mind, but she nodded, and held the door open enough for Byleth to slip inside. Sothis, being incorporeal, simply floated through the door itself, which Edelgard proceeded to shut and lock.

Turning on her heel, she stared at the two of them. “What is this about, Byleth? It’s quite early for a social visit…” Her heart began to beat faster as she took in the situation she’d found herself in. 

Byleth spoke first, after nodding to Sothis. “Well… I know that you’re quite the dancer. I’m not much for it, even after all this time, but… Every year, on the day of the ball, Sothis here laments how quickly I retreat from the dance floor.” The diminutive goddess nodded sharply. “ _What good it is doing her to retire so early, I shall never know. I always tell her that if I had a body of my own, I would dance the night away_.”

Edelgard nodded in acknowledgement, still unsure of where this was heading. Byleth took her hand. “Edelgard… I know it’s quite a bit early, and we have no music, but… Would you like to dance? Not with me, you understand… That should wait for the ball, when I can properly embarrass the both of us with how bad I am at it.” Edelgard cocked her head to the side. “Then… With Sothis? But she--” “ _Doesn’t have a body, yes. We’ve thought of a temporary workaround for that. Are you interested_?” 

Edelgard was fascinated, of course, but wanted to temper her response. Sothis giggled, and Edelgard remembered with a start that their shared crest gave the goddess a window into her mind. She sighed. “Well… Since you can hear my thoughts, you already know that I am. But where do you plan to get a body?” Byleth smirked, and whipped off her poncho with a flourish. 

Underneath, she had on a rather strange outfit. It looked like a dancer's ensemble, but modified in a way that screamed “Byleth Eisner”. Starting from a more typical dancer’s dress in navy blue with pink accents, Byleth had added material on the sides and a light pauldron over her left shoulder, removed almost all of the dangling bits of metal, and included more sensible footwear and her bizarre patterned tights. Edelgard had to admit that Byleth looked absolutely radiant wearing it, for as odd as it was. Sothis beamed at her as she took in the sight of Byleth in the strange attire. “ _Like it? She insisted on making some adjustments here and there. She also flatly refused to go with my original idea, which I feel confident in saying would have been far too much for you to handle… But I have to admit, what they put dancers in in this era is decent enough. Anyway!_ ” Sothis whirled around Byleth, leaving green and gold sparkles in the air in her wake.

“ _We’re almost certain that I can briefly take control over her body, and the two of us can share a dance before I return control to her. I’m sure you’d rather dance with_ her _in her body, but she wants to indulge me. What do you say_?” Sothis came to a stop a little in front of Edelgard, looking expectantly into her eyes. She fidgeted, attempting to come up with a reason why this was a bad idea and finding herself soundly unable to.

“...I suppose it might be enjoyable. But only if Byleth is completely alright with it!” Edelgard had been serious, but Byleth just laughed. “Don’t worry, El. This whole thing was my idea, anyway. I’m very much on board. So… shall we?” Edelgard nodded, and watched with interest as Sothis floated closer and closer towards Byleth, before melting into her form. Byleth closed her eyes, and for a moment it seemed like nothing had happened. Then, there was a rush of energy that left Edelgard with goosebumps, and Byleth opened her eyes once more.

They glowed green.

Byleth smiled as wide as she could, before saying “Oh, my! It actually worked! I thought that it would, of course, but it can be hard to tell with these things… Are you alright in there?” Silence followed, and Edelgard’s face must have betrayed her concern, because Byleth - or rather, Sothis - put a hand up. “No no, she is fine! I suppose you cannot hear her like you can me. How odd.” She looked pensive, but then shook Byleth’s head. “No, we cannot afford to waste time! Let us dance, little one!” 

Smiling, Edelgard reached out a hand, and Sothis took it.

\---

The rainy day did nothing to deter her class from arriving for their lesson today, which made Byleth feel light and warm. Linhardt still liked to nap in the back, but the fact that he even decided to show up rather than stay in bed on a day like today was touching. She was just about ready to announce her plans for the day when her classroom doors opened again. In strode the Ashen Wolves, looking slightly bedraggled. She beamed at Yuri - they had finally come to take their lumps, after all, even if they had waited until after the fight she meant to test them for in the first place - and gestured for them to sit anywhere. Yuri sat down on Dorothea’s left, eliciting a small giggle and a “Morning, Yurikins” from the brunette songstress. Balthus settled in next to Caspar, who began to chatter animatedly to him about their last training bout. Hapi and Constance sat down together behind Edelgard, and to her surprise, Lysithea struck up a conversation with the red-haired mage almost immediately. She smiled - even if the Wolves weren’t, strictly speaking, _kids_ , they were still her kids.

Byleth went over her planned lectures for the remainder of this moon in her mind - dealing with and sussing out ambushes, fighting in narrow spaces, shield-wall tactics, and the differences between reactive defense and proactive defense. They would need all this knowledge for her to feel comfortable bringing them to Conand Tower, but for today…

“Alright class. Today is an all-practical day. Let’s head to the training grounds!” 

As the Black Eagles arrived, she was surprised to see members of the Golden Deer milling about, with bored looks on their faces. She flagged down Hilda, who was standing by a pillar with her arms crossed.

“What’s going on here, Hilda? Is your class using the training grounds right now, or…?” Hilda shook her head, her pink twintails whipping around. “Nope. Lorenz pushed Leonie a little too far before we actually started, and she broke his nose… And his arm. Professor Manuela gave us the day off and took them to the infirmary.” She cracked a grin. “I wish he’d just tell her he likes her, but maybe getting beat up is his thing? I don’t judge.” Byleth laughed. Hilda was just spreading gossip, but Byleth knew better - those two had somehow ended up together in quite a few lifetimes.

Turning back to her class, she announced: “Well everyone, since the Deer here are done for the day, we have the run of the place. You know what that means…” Her original Eagles bore looks ranging from excitement (Caspar) to abject terror (Bernie), but Lysithea and the Wolves looked confused. “Sparring.”

“There are a few ways we can do this, and the choice is yours. If you’re feeling supremely confident in your skills, you can fight me with your preferred weapon against mine. If you don’t have that kind of ego, mirror matches are still perfectly fine. Finally, if, like Yuri, you favor the sword, you can request that I use a different weapon. Matches run as usual for sparring, first to yield or suffer an injury. Speaking of which…” She turned and found the pale blue head of hair she was looking for. “Marianne, would you mind helping us out for the morning?” 

The healer approached her looking rather nervous, but Byleth gave her a warm smile. “I’d like for you to do any immediate first-aid that comes up, if you would be willing. I know what a good healer you are, and it would give me peace knowing that you were waiting to patch them up.” Incredibly, Marianne gave her a small smile in return - she was going to have to thank Dimitri for this, some day - and nodded. “I-I’ll try my best, Professor.” She gently placed a hand on Marianne’s shoulder, giving it a little squeeze. “Thank you. That’s all that I ask.”

Returning to her students, she gave one final announcement. “This, unlike our last bout, is going to be one on one. You’re not good enough to take me down one on one yet, and I do need to test you all as individuals at this point anyway.” Looking at Bernie, who looked to be on the verge of tears, she added “I have confidence that all of you can do this, even if you might think that you can’t. I’ve fought beside you all enough to know that you can do anything you put your minds to.”

Nodding to herself, she instructed them to line up. Unsurprisingly, Caspar, Ferdinand, and Petra were the first in line, with Balthus jumping in behind the Brigidian princess. She smiled. “Alright then, Caspar. I know you’ve been waiting for another crack at me. How do you want to fight?” He was practically vibrating with excitement. “Let’s do axes, Professor! I’ve been meaning to show off my technique for a while now!” She nodded, grabbing two training axes from the rack. She noticed, as her back was to her students now, that the remaining Deer (Hilda, Claude, Ignatz, and Raphael) were all watching with interest. 

She tossed an axe to Caspar, then took up a ready position. After a moment or two to hone her focus, she called out “Begin!”, and launched herself at Caspar. Surprisingly, he was ready for her sudden approach, jumping back and launching a vicious swing at her that she was forced to roll out of the way of. Pressing his advantage, Caspar followed it up with wide-arcing diagonal strikes, the last one of which she countered with a strong horizontal swipe of her own that would have wrenched his axe from his hand had she done this at the beginning of the year. She smiled. He’d gotten better. Hilda even cheered for him, which caused a light blush to rise on Caspar's cheeks.

Still, he wasn’t good enough to stop her yet, and with his defenses temporarily broken like that, Byleth pushed into his guard and landed several strong strikes on his torso. He was forced down on one knee, panting and wincing. After a few moments, he shook his head, and called out “Alright, I yield! That was awesome, Professor!” Marianne stepped forward and examined him, before casting a small healing spell. He thanked her, and walked back to the rest of the Eagles. Hilda made her way over as well, and ruffled his hair. Byleth put up her axe, then called out “Next!”

Ferdinand wanted to fight with lances, which Byleth knew to be her weakest melee weapon. Still, she knew that he was far too reliant on having a partner to fight alongside, and determined to punish him every time he unconsciously waited for a partner to jump in and finish her. As they sparred, she counted no less than five instances of this hesitation, and each one earned him a strong blow to the upper arm - never in the same spot, of course, but enough to make him hiss in pain. The final one sent him to the ground in a heap, and she didn’t give him the opportunity to rise, placing the blunted point of her training lance at his neck. 

As he got to his feet under Marianne’s care, Byleth looked him in the eye. “You’re a strong, tough fighter, but you lack follow-through. Fighting with a partner has made you too hesitant to press your advantages - Petra can’t always jump in to finish a downed or disabled enemy, after all. When you start taking your mount out for missions, you’ll have to have follow-through. Understood?” He nodded, taking her criticism in stride, though he had a shade of pink dusting his cheeks at the mention of Petra’s constant partnering with him.

Petra was next, and surprisingly offered to fight her with a shortbow while Byleth used a sword. She hadn’t actually expected any of them to take her up on her offer, but grinned and replied, “Your funeral.” Petra looked confused at the idiom, but Ferdinand whispered the explanation in her ear, and she nodded in understanding. “Regardless, I will be demonstrating my skill as a huntress.” 

One thing that Byleth knew intellectually but had not truly grasped until this moment was that Petra was _fast_. She fired off arrows at incredible speed, and Byleth had soon taken several hits - all non-vital, she was good enough to ensure that, but still… Closing the distance helped some, but Petra’s speed allowed her to duck and dive around Byleth’s blade effectively for a little while, until she began to run out of stamina. The shift was gradual, but eventually Byleth was able to rap her on the knuckles and force her to drop her bow, before bringing her sword to her neck. Smiling, Petra said “I yield, Professor.”

Byleth returned her smile. “Petra, if that had been a real battle, you would have won. That kind of fast-paced marksmanship is a dangerous gamble, but in a fight where arrows hurt, you’d have taken me out. Now, one thing you should work on is stamina. You ran out of it very quickly once I got in melee range and you had to start dodging. I’ll work with you on building a regimen to increase your stamina soon.”

As Petra returned to the rest of the class, Balthus stepped forward. “How’s about a little bare-knuckle, pal?” Byleth laughed. “Maybe some other time, but for now, use some training equipment. Unless you’re planning on punching knights in armor with your bare hands, I’ll need to see how you can handle gauntlets.” He shrugged, and grabbed some training tonfa, tossing them to her before picking up a pair for himself. She settled into a classical brawler position, waiting for him. He readied in the familiar pose of a war monk, and the two of them sprang forward, trading and blocking blows furiously. Balthus was _good_ , far better than the younger Eagles. It was all Byleth could do to keep up with him, not having honed her brawling technique at all in this lifetime. He had height and weight advantage on her, though she was a touch speedier. He landed a solid body blow on her, sending her back several feet, but she was back in his face in an instant trying to find a good opening.

Balthus’ stamina was something, all right. The Legendary King of Grappling had his boisterous title for a reason, and Byleth soon realized that she was approaching _her_ limit for this kind of combat, which was absolutely not supposed to happen when sparring with students this early on. With a start, she realized that her body was about to start drawing on her crest power, and thus, she had only one real option. She dropped back from him and raised her hands in a gesture of surrender. Her Eagles looked shocked - someone had beaten her - but the Deer broke into raucous applause. Hilda and Claude came over to talk to Balthus while Byleth let Marianne heal her up. Judging by the smirk on Claude’s face, he was enjoying himself.

Finally, the blue-haired healer gave her a small nod, which Byleth acknowledged with a quiet word of thanks. Returning to her students, she smiled. “Well, they don’t call you the King for nothing, Balthus. That was very well-done indeed. Although… Perhaps this is a good time to say this for the rest of these matches. Pushing me hard is good - it shows off your skills, and I’m proud to see it happen. Pushing me _too_ hard, which almost happened in this match, is very bad. If I draw from my crest, my strikes against you will become vampiric. The Crest of Flames, among other things, draws an opponent’s own strength into the bearer’s body. That’s why I surrendered, Balthus. If I had kept going, my body would have started to use the crest power automatically, and I’m told being on the receiving end of the Crest of Flames hurts just about as much as being on the giving end.” She winced, noticing Edelgard looking downwards in sympathy.

“But! That doesn’t mean that you didn’t earn your win fair and square. Excellent work.” She smiled at Balthus, who returned it with a goofy grin of his own. He, Hilda, and Claude separated, with Hilda going over to talk to Marianne. Next came Bernadetta. Bernie’s match ended fairly quickly, as she gave up once she was out of arrows. Still, not only had she scored several hits on Byleth, but she had also managed to shoot one of Byleth’s own arrows out of the air somehow, which earned her no shortage of praise when she rejoined the Eagles. She still gave up too quickly, but her eyes were sharp. Byleth made a mental note about that, and announced their lunch break.

\---

Edelgard was just about to go join the rest of the Black Eagles for lunch when she spotted Dimitri, sitting by himself. The other Blue Lions were nowhere to be seen, and he looked rather forlorn. She made up her mind quickly, and walked over to him. “May I join you?” He looked up at her, still rather sad-looking, and nodded. She sat down across from him, and began to eat while she watched him push food around his plate. She was about to ask him what was troubling him when he volunteered the answer himself.

“There is… more unrest in the Kingdom, day by day. The most recent trouble is from my friend Sylvain’s older brother. He was always rather… brusque, I suppose? But after House Gautier disinherited him, he took up the life of a bandit chief.” Dimitri sighed. “My friends are hurting, my nation is bleeding, and I sit here, powerless to do anything.” He looked despondent. 

Edelgard sighed, placing her utensils down. “Is your injury still bothering you? Or does the rain bring up sad thoughts in _your_ head as well?” He managed a very weak smile at that, before replying “Both. Manuela-- er, Professor Manuela, I should say… She says that I cannot even think of training with my left arm for another moon at least, and my activities have been restricted for my right to ensure I do not over-strain myself. And on days like today, my… my ghosts tend to be a little louder than normal.”

Edelgard held in a nervous breath. “Your 'ghosts'? I have heard you talk about it before, but… What do you mean?” Dimitri breathed in, shakily. “I… suppose you have earned the right to know. I carry the weight of the dead. Those who died at Duscur… I see them in my mind’s eye and I hear them speak, though Manuela has convinced me that they live only in my heart, and do not truly haunt this world any longer. My father, my friend Glenn… Your mother is there as well.” He looked down at his plate, refusing to meet her gaze. “They are never kind to me. Father speaks about the wretched state of the Kingdom, and how unfit I am to rule it. Glenn tells me often how I am no longer a man, but something baser… Step-mother never speaks. She just looks at me with sadness.”

Edelgard’s mind swam at this information. Dimitri was so traumatized by the Tragedy of Duscur that his mind had created entities from familiar faces to torment him? No wonder he was so angry at her the night she met with Thales in the Blue Sea Moon.

She tapped her chin, thinking of how to proceed. Then, inspiration struck. “I see. Well, if I may… It sounds like neither your father nor your friend know what they’re talking about.” He snapped his head upwards, finally meeting her eyes. He looked angry, and confused. “What do you mean?” She sighed, trying to temper her speech a little. Perhaps insulting them openly wasn't her best plan? “They either do not see the kind of man you truly are, or choose to ignore it. Either way, they do not know what they’re talking about. After all, would someone who is less than a person risk their own life to save someone else? Would a good king not lay down his life for someone he cares about?”

Dimitri stared at her, trying and failing to form a response. She pressed forward. “Listen, Dimitri. The next time one of them tries to put you down, tell them that I know they have no idea what they speak of. Would that I could go inside your heart and fight them myself.” He looked stunned, and she simply smiled at him. “You know that I can back up my own words with steel. Lambert should draw steel himself, or stay silent. Is that not the Faerghan way?”

Dimitri was silent, eyes still wide. Then, miraculously, he began to laugh. It was soft at first, but it grew louder, until it finally seemed that he was laughing at a particularly good joke over lunch. Eventually he stopped, wiping tears from his eyes. “I… Thank you, El. For a moment I pictured it in my mind, and the sight proved too much.” He sighed. “I do not deserve a sister as kind as you are.” She scoffed, softly. “Well, you have one. You must learn to deal with it sooner rather than later.”

The two of them ate in companionable silence for a while, until eventually Edelgard finished her meal. She looked up to find Dimitri studying her face. She blushed slightly, unused to such scrutiny. He quickly apologized, but she raised a hand to cut him off. “Dimitri… Do you even _want_ to be a king?” He cocked his head to the side. “What do you mean? I am the crown prince of Faerghus. I will be, whether I want it or not.” She shook her head. “I am the heir apparent to the Empire, and I have never once desired the throne for myself. I desire to use its power for the ends we have spoken of before, and then walk away from it.” He looked stunned once more, but managed to keep his mouth closed this time. 

“I’ll ask again - do you want to be king?” He looked upwards, thoughtfully. “Well… I suppose, no, I do not. I had never even allowed myself to consider another kind of life, but… In an ideal world, where I did not have to care about the line of Blaiddyd kings and Blaiddyd Crests, I would very much like to just be a normal man. Perhaps… Perhaps I would own a stable. I could live surrounded by friends and loved ones, without the pressures of my lineage hanging over me… Sadly, that world cannot be. But it would be nice.”

Edelgard looked at him intensely for a moment. “I think that that world could come to be, someday. It will take effort, but… That is the sort of world I dream of creating. Perhaps I’ll tell you about it some time.” Dimitri nodded enthusiastically. “I would love to hear more of it. Even if I don’t think your dream world could truly exist… I would like to believe in it.”

\---

After lunch, the Black Eagles filed back into the training grounds. Most of the Golden Deer had gone their own ways, though Hilda was still hanging around Caspar, Raphael was chatting with Hapi, and Claude had been deep in conversation with Balthus during their entire lunch hour. Now, though, Byleth was in for a lot of mages in a row, so she needed to focus. While she was fairly confident that she could handle it, she decided to take control of the situation early. Clearing her throat to regain her class' attention, she said “I’m going to go ahead and order our remaining fights. The matches will go as follows: Dorothea, Hubert, Linhardt, Constance, Hapi, and Lysithea, followed at last by Yuri and Edelgard. Also… the magic sparring is going to be a little different than you might be expecting.”

Her mages shared a look of confusion, which Byleth merely smirked at. Pushing her thoughts toward Sothis, Byleth thought to her “ _Are we good to go_?” Sothis blinked into being next to her, surprising Edelgard. “ _We are. So long as we do this quickly, it should be fine._ ” Byleth hummed in response. “ _Will you have the energy to cast it enough_?” Sothis huffed at her, rolling her eyes. “ _Of course I will. What do you take me for_?” She smiled, though, letting Byleth know she didn’t actually take offense.

Clearing her throat, she turned back to the remaining Eagles. “I am going to cast a shield spell. It’s extremely powerful, and your objective will be to do as much damage as you can to it before you run out of energy, or use your most advanced spell. I don’t expect any of you to break it, but I’ll be pleasantly surprised if you do. Hold nothing back.” Lysithea put her hands on her hips and was about to speak, but she noticed Edelgard place a gloved hand on her shoulder, and whisper something in her ear. Whatever it was, she nodded eventually nodded, and said nothing.

Dorothea walked forward, smiling at her. “You’re sure you want _everything_ I can do? I’ve been working on a big one, Professor!” Byleth nodded, though she was too busy pooling energy for Sothis to use to return her smile. This plan, if it worked, was probably going to earn her a little scolding from Edelgard, but what better way to truly see her mage students’ power? She closed her eyes, waiting for the moment--

Her eyes opened again, involuntarily. She was now observing through her own eyes from the stone throne Sothis usually sat on, while Sothis was nowhere to be seen. She felt her body smirk towards Edelgard, who shook her head disapprovingly. “Alright!” Sothis shouted in Byleth’s voice. “Prepare yourself!” She waved Byleth’s hand, producing a massive sigil with the Crest of Flames at the top. Soon, a shimmering golden shield hung before her, translucent and radiating power. “Begin!”

Dorothea eyed the strange spell with obvious wariness, but she obliged. She fired several Thunder spells in a barrage to test for weaknesses. Finding none, she concentrated before releasing a powerful Thoron. It struck the shield directly, electrifying the air around Byleth’s body, but leaving no damage visible on the shield itself. “Ha! Good! Show me more!” Sothis was more expressive than Byleth usually was, but Dorothea was caught up in the moment, so it worked. She pulled even more energy together, and released a burst of energy spiraling towards the shield - Sagittae. The shield absorbed the hits from the multi-projectile spell, though Byleth could feel the slight drain in her body’s magical energy to maintain it. Dorothea huffed, clearly having expected that to do something. Sothis called out to her, saying “Anything else you’ve been working on, or are you at your limits?” 

Byleth was about to chastise her for being rude when Dorothea smirked. “Well… There is one thing, but… I need a little space.” Byleth tore through memories, trying to think of what Dorothea could possibly have available at this point. There was no way she was strong enough to use Agnea’s Arrow yet, which meant… Meteor? She relayed this information to Sothis, feeling her smirk with Byleth’s mouth again. “Go on then. If it is what I think that it is, I shall be quite impressed.” Byleth noticed that Hubert, in the edge of her vision, cocked his head to one side and frowned at the change in her speech patterns.

Dorothea pooled her remaining magical energy from the other end of the training grounds, before unleashing it all at once. She formed a sizable Meteor in mid-air, then sent it hurtling towards Sothis’ shield. It crashed into the shield mightily, and the shield actually cracked ever so slightly. Dorothea, however, was clearly spent, and sank to her knees. “ _Compliment her abilities, Sothis_.” Sothis nodded Byleth’s head, repairing the shield with one hand while offering congratulations to Dorothea. “That was very well executed. For the amount of energy you had left, it was of decent size, too. Well done.” Dorothea accepted the praise wordlessly, and likely would have passed out had Linhardt not rushed over to give her some healing. She shakily left the field, and Hubert stepped forward.

His eyebrow quirked as he took in Byleth’s changed eye color. He spoke softly, only loud enough for Byleth to catch “Ah. I suppose that explains a few things…”. Sothis nodded at him. “Are you prepared?” He said nothing, raising his hands which were already glowing with dark magic. She smirked. “Begin, then.”

Hubert’s mastery of dark magic was very thorough. Miasma, Mire, and Banshee were all hurled with casual indifference, merely testing the shield. He pooled energy, then released Death towards the shield. A large crack formed in it, but Hubert sank to one knee, gasping for breath from the effort. Sothis began lecturing him. “Dark magic is powerful - powerful enough to damage this shield, even. But its requirements are far more demanding than other forms of magic, especially once you reach as high a level as you have done. You cannot expect to use so many powerful spells that rapidly without at least getting winded... Still, you did well to damage this shield as much as you did. Go rest.” He nodded, and soon Linhardt took his place.

Linhardt quickly unleashed a barrage of Wind magic, raising in intensity until Cutting Gale, then swapped to Fire. His Fire magic was less steady than his Wind, but he managed to produce a small Bolganone that the shield fully absorbed. He looked slightly upset that there was no visible damage to the shield, and quickly released a Nosferatu at it. It drained a decent amount of energy from the shield, and he winced at the unfamiliar energy returning to his body. Byleth whispered to Sothis, who smiled wickedly. 

“Lin, if you use the spell you’ve been holding back, I’ll ask Yuri to let you into the Shadow Library for an entire day.” The purple-haired trickster glared daggers at her, but didn’t immediately object. Linhardt, on the other hand, grew deadly serious. “Well… With that kind of reward on the line, I might as well try.” He breathed in and out a few times, waving his hands through practice forms as he drew up the energy… Then, exploding outwards, he cried “Excalibur!” 

The onslaught of Wind magic crashed into Sothis’ shield with much more force than either of them had expected. It cracked down the middle, and Byleth realized with a start that his earlier Nosferatu had drained energy from the shield in that specific area. Linhardt had planned for this. Sothis cackled in Byleth’s body, and she cringed from her spot on the throne - the sound of it was obviously strange to her students. Sothis, however, was undeterred by this. “Well done, Linhardt! That was a devious move. I like you!” He looked bemused, and waved her compliments away as he walked off the field.

Constance was next, and she had a proposition. “Instead of wasting time showing you banal spells for beginners, why don’t I just use the most powerful ones I know?” Sothis nodded eagerly. “I like a challenge! Do not, however, expect to prevail.” She pushed energy into the shield again, repairing it just as Constance launched into a barrage of powerful spells. She was a Black magic genius, hurling spells rapidly. Arcwind, Fimbulvetr, and Sagittae crashed into the shield in quick succession, though none of them cracked the shield. She screwed her face up in concentration, hurling a Bolganone at it even while Constance herself fell back, building up power for one final spell. The Bolganone threatened to damage the shield, but it held up fine until Constance’s last move, Bolting, struck it. The intensity of her Bolting spell blew a section off of the shield, and she shouted in triumph.

Sothis grinned at her. “That was very well done! It has been a long time since anyone was able to damage this shield so much.” Next, Hapi stepped forward. She looked like she did not want to be there, and half-heartedly waved her hand at the shield. Unfortunately, that half-hearted wave was Hapi casting Death, and it crashed into the shield before Sothis had a chance to repair it again, nearly shattering the whole thing. She blinked a few times, then mumbled an apology. “I didn’t mean to go before you started, but, you seemed like you were ready… Sorry, Blue.” 

Byleth, from her vantage point, felt confusion wash over her. Hapi had always called her “Chatterbox” in their dealings in other lifetimes. Why the change? Sothis asked Byleth’s question for her, and Hapi snorted in laughter. “Well, you talk a lot more now than you did when we first met, so it’s more mean than I wanted. And, well, your hair and eyes are...” She narrowed her own eyes as she noticed the glowing green that had replaced Byleth’s deep blue irises, but merely shook her head dismissively. “Anyway, that was my biggest spell, so...” She walked off, and Lysithea strode forward.

“I hope you didn’t save me for last on purpose, Professor.” Lysithea’s eyes were watching her carefully, and she told Sothis to be kind. She shook Byleth’s head. “No, that was just how things worked out. Now, come.” She repaired the shield, and Byleth felt a perilous lurch as her magical energy neared its limit. They would have to switch soon, and she communicated that to Sothis.

Raising her hands, Lysithea caught Sothis’ eye again. “I’ll be demonstrating three spells. Please keep the shield intact through the first two.” Sothis nodded at her, but Lysithea was no longer paying attention. She rose into the air as she channeled power, hurling what was unmistakably Luna towards the shield. Bracing for the onslaught of energy, Sothis hunkered in behind it. The energy from Luna shook the ground, and scored several small cracks along the outer edges of the shield. Purple flames scorched the ground around her body, but Lysithea didn’t care. She grunted from exertion, forming a line of Dark Spikes in the air, before sending them hurtling towards the shield. Some bounced off or shattered, but a few managed to stick into the shield, which trembled in the air from the impact.

Finally, Lysithea cast her last spell. It was indeed the one that Byleth was afraid it would be, and it proved exactly how much of a prodigy the young mage truly was: Hades Omega. The full brunt of the dark magic maelstrom struck the shield, and it shattered, sending Byleth’s body flying toward the far wall. In mid-air, Byleth used all of her willpower to switch back with Sothis, determined to not let her friend feel physical pain. She felt a muted sense of gratitude as the little goddess almost instantly fell asleep, spent from her efforts, before feeling a much less muted sensation as her back connected with the stone wall.

Dorothea and Linhardt were on her in seconds, checking for injuries and providing relief for the pain she was in. Lysithea and Edelgard ran up to her shortly after them, and Lysithea had a look of terrible guilt on her face. Byleth gave her a weak smile from the ground, and tried to keep her voice as even as possible as she spoke to her. “That was incredibly well done, Lysithea. I don’t say it lightly when I tell you that you are the best mage in this house, and probably the best student mage at Garreg Mach. The amount of effort you’ve put in to be able to cast Hades Omega this early into the year is astounding.” Lysithea’s eyes widened, and she accepted the praise uncomfortably, before finally letting a small smile break through. 

Edelgard knelt down, concern evident. Byleth knew she wanted to ask what exactly she and Sothis were thinking, letting Sothis control things like that, and she knew that Edelgard had a point. But she couldn’t help from smiling up at her, even in the face of almost certain scolding. Edelgard blushed a little, and sighed deeply. “Fine. I’ll save it for another time. But… You’re in no shape to fight Yuri and I right now. Should we not postpone that? After all, you have to, er, visit with the Captain soon, do you not?”

Byleth grimaced - she had almost forgotten about the group meeting. She sighed, allowing the healers to fuss over her a little longer before answering. Finally, she nodded. “If you would tell everyone class is over, that would be appreciated.” Edelgard nodded, gave her hand a small squeeze, then turned to leave.

\---

An hour later, Byleth nervously ran her fingers through her hair. She wasn’t sure how this meeting was going to go for several reasons, one of which was currently running late. So far, only four others besides herself knew the true identity of Ethur, who was allegedly going to join them. But, if she was cynical, that number likely was now six - strategically, she should assume that Claude and Edelgard would inform their retainers. She hoped that Edelgard would have more restraint than that, but Claude… She frowned. Claude had been acting strangely the entire year thus far. More strangely than his position warranted, at least to her mind. And yet, every time she brought it up, Claude mysteriously found urgent business to attend to. He wasn’t acting himself, but he wouldn’t let her in to help. It was all very frustrating.

The familiar staccato knock alerted her to the arrival of their last three compatriots, and she roused herself from her thoughts. Seteth, Flayn, and Ethur strode into Jeralt’s cramped office, father and daughter settling onto one of Jeralt’s couches next to Hilda, and Ethur standing awkwardly near the door. He was covered in a layer of grime, having swapped his robes for something more suited to metalwork. Jeralt let out a small noise of triumph from his desk, and she shot him a look. He shrugged in response. “I figured from the hair that he was related to Seteth, but this pretty much confirms it.” Turning his attention to Ethur, he gave the newcomer to their group a warm smile. “You’re a hell of a smith. I appreciate you working to keep my knights alive.”

Ethur looked rather overwhelmed at the number of people in the room, but nodded briefly in response to Jeralt.

Byleth ran over her agenda in her head for a moment. Introductions could wait, as far as she was concerned - they had business to get to. But, just then, Byleth remembered their last big meeting during the previous moon. She turned back to Jeralt, who cocked an eyebrow. “How is Catherine doing? Ever since I confirmed that Rhea put a second crest in her I've hardly seen her.” Ethur, Seteth, Flayn, and Edelgard all made various noises of scandal, horror, and anger, but that could also wait. Jeralt sighed and shook his head.

“Her performance is top notch, up until it suddenly isn’t. She’s got a stamina cap now, which is unlike her. Her hair’s almost completely white, and her eyes are…” His gaze flickered over towards Edelgard, who was still looking up at Byleth with her mouth agape. “Hanneman’s been meeting with her a lot, and in _my_ last meeting with Rhea, I suggested having her hang back some. She actually agreed with me for once, and seemed… I don’t know. I’d never seen her act like that. If it were anyone else I’d say she felt bad about it.”

Byleth nodded, processing that information. Turning towards the rest of the room, she said “We can talk more about that, and do introductions with our new friend, in just a moment. There’s pressing business this moon, as ever. Rhea has ordered my class to chase down a band of thieves holed up in Fraldarius territory. Their leader, Miklan, is the disowned firstborn son of the current Margrave Gautier, and part of why he’s being viewed as such a threat is because he stole the Lance of Ruin some time during the last few moons. He can’t use the Relic, of course, since he doesn’t have a crest, but... “ Her eyes flickered to Seteth.

She sighed, and flashed him an apologetic look. “Someone attempting to wield a Relic weapon without a compatible crest runs the risk of being corrupted by it from repeated use, and changed into a bestial form. A lifetime of overuse can actually do that to someone _with_ the right crest, but for someone who has no crest whatsoever, it takes almost no time at all. In past lifetimes, we have always been unsuccessful in stopping Miklan from trying to use the Lance of Ruin against us, and have had to subdue him in beast form. I aim to try to separate him from the Lance as quickly as possible. I’d rather not kill him - he’s had a hard enough time from the Kingdom’s absurd reliance on the crest system. But if it comes to that, I want to kill him as a man, not as a beast.”

She fixed Edelgard with an intense stare. “Edelgard. Your mission this moon, until we depart for Conand Tower, is to attempt to bring Sylvain, Ingrid, and Felix around to your way of thinking. I’m not asking for them to be recruited to the Black Eagles, mind you. I’m talking about crests and nobility.” Claude flinched as though he was going to stand up and object, but he kept himself seated. Curious - she was going to need to follow up on that.

Undeterred by Claude, she continued. “Sylvain will by far be the easiest to win over. I’m not just saying that because you’re a woman and he has a reputation as a philanderer - underneath his carefully constructed persona is a very intelligent and kind-hearted man who has almost as much hatred for crests as you do. He doesn’t need to know everything, but I want him to be fully swayed to your way of thinking. Ingrid will be trickier, and I’d recommend leaving her for last. Felix respects earned strength, and despises chivalry and noble expectation. In a way, he’s not built to be Faerghan. Once you work on those two, Ingrid won’t be too much trouble. This, of course, is all a lead-up to getting Dimitri to seriously question the way Faerghus operates. If his closest friends are there to influence him about it, it will be that much easier.”

The white-haired girl nodded sharply, eyes burning with determination. “I’d also like for you to begin building rapport with Catherine. Be careful not to overplay your hand there - she’s still very zealous. I’d feel more comfortable keeping you away from anyone who believes in Rhea as strongly as she does, but there aren’t many people out there who can understand her situation. You might coordinate with Lysithea, actually.” Turning to Jeralt, she added, “Father, if you could facilitate opportunities for Edelgard in this, it would be appreciated.” He grunted in acknowledgement.

She cleared her throat. “Claude, I want you to keep digging on our Agarthan knight. If Anacharsis comes from Almyra, I want to know. I realize that what I’m asking is dangerous for your personal goals and ambitions, but if Those Who Slither extend further than the borders of Fodlan, that’s information we need to have. Be careful.” Claude stared at her for a few moments, but finally nodded.

“It’s only fair that I give a report on my own efforts, as well. In addition to coordinating with all of you, I will be working on a somewhat longer-term project. I want to recruit Prince Dimitri to our group.” Minor noises of surprise accompanied this declaration, but Byleth did not stop for comments. “This moon, I will attempt to gauge Prince Dimitri’s overall condition mentally and emotionally. If he is not quite ready to learn the things that he needs to know in order to be a full member of our group, then I will try to gently nudge him along toward fuller recovery. My goal is for him to join our group by the beginning of the Red Wolf Moon at the latest. Having the leaders of all three houses on the same page will do wonders for our activities here, and having three future leaders united together to fight Those Who Slither can only be a boon.”

Next, there was… Ah, yes. Introductions. “I’d now like to welcome our newest member to this little resistance group. Everyone, this is Ethur. Please lend him your support when necessary, and try to keep people from unduly questioning his sudden appearance in the monastery and resemblance to the church’s leadership. He’s Seteth and Flayn’s cousin, as I understand it, and he’s more than willing to help us.” Ethur nodded, but did not say anything.

Turning her mind to what was left to talk about, Byleth sighed. This was the part of the meeting she was dreading. “We now need to turn our attention to Flayn.” The green-haired girl looked bewildered as all eyes were on her. Seteth grimaced. “At the end of this moon, Flayn is usually kidnapped by the Death Knight, under orders from Solon. While we can’t just haul off and kill Solon now to stop this, it’s imperative that he doesn’t succeed. For one… Flayn is precious to me, and to Sothis. So it goes without saying that I want to keep her safe. But… Solon specifically wants her for her blood. He will in turn use this blood to fuel awful experiments - we need to stop that from happening. Seteth and Ethur will need to be on their guard as well, but Flayn is the usual target, so she gets priority. Any thoughts that aren’t ‘take Flayn and hide away somewhere’?”

She looked around the room. Seteth, of course, looked panicked, but at her dismissal of the plan she knew he would suggest, he was silent, clinging onto Flayn protectively. Bereth spoke up from beside her. “I believe the issue at hand is that Flayn is overpowered by the Death Knight normally, yes? Thus, providing adequate protection for her at all times, while obviously an inconvenience, would be our best option.” Seeing her face twist at the thought of being confined like that, he quickly continued. “I believe I have a suggestion that would both provide her with adequate protection _and_ a reasonable cover, while not proving too stifling.”

Everyone looked at him expectantly, and a small flush crept up his neck. “R-right. Er. What I propose is that Flayn join me as a research assistant. Though the location of my office is… precarious, due to its proximity to Solon, it would allow us to have Flayn guarded, without completely hiding her away from the world. That is… that is if she wouldn’t mind. I actually could use the help…” 

There was silence for a while as everyone worked through the logistics of the plan, and to Byleth’s surprise, Yuri spoke up before Seteth did. “I like it, but one layer of security isn’t enough. Lucky for you, the Wolves happen to be excellent at this kind of thing. We can make sure Constance, Hapi, or myself are constantly in the library while Flayn is in your office. Hell, we could start a rumor that you’re working on some classified research for the Church, and have Balthus hired on as an actual guard. Both together would work out quite well, wouldn’t you agree? After the day is done, you can escort her to Seteth.”

Bereth nodded enthusiastically. Byleth, however, looked at Flayn. “I know this is a lot to take in. What are you thinking?” Sothis winked into existence and flew over to be near to her, and she smiled weakly at the comforting presence. “I would actually very much enjoy spending time aiding you with your research, Dean Bereth. If… If I have to be hidden away like this, I much prefer doing so with something that interests me, with someone that I-- w-well, someone that can be trusted.” A small blush rose onto Flayn’s face, and Byleth knew she wasn’t the only one to catch that little slip of the tongue. Bereth’s face, though, indicated that he was not among that number. Seteth scowled, but his expression softened as Ethur stepped forward and put a hand on his shoulder.

Hearing no objections, Byleth clapped her hands together, softly. “It’s decided, then. Bereth, please don’t work Flayn too hard. And you’re on your own if you give her coffee.” A fiendish gleam shone from Flayn’s eyes at that remark, and Seteth barked out a small laugh. Byleth smiled, before wearily speaking up again. “Alright, everyone… Onto our next item on the agenda….”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A "deleted" scene, if you will:
> 
> Sothis: Byleth, the point of a dancer ensemble is to look enticing! You can't look like that while you're wearing pauldrons! Where would they even attach to?  
> Byleth: I can just add more material. Besides, what if I need to take a blow to the shoulder unexpectedly? I'll just wear the one if you're so against pauldrons with this, but in return I am *not* wearing those absurd sandals.  
> Sothis: Why don't we just-  
> Byleth: NO. We are not swapping outfits!
> 
> Oops I wrote fifteen pages accidentally. The training sections get away from me so quickly. We'll get to some important character conversations next time, and if whatever gods govern fanfiction are merciful, maybe we'll even get to Conand Tower and Miklan. I wouldn't hold my breath though, if I were any of you reading.
> 
> Flayn is absolutely going to be drinking coffee at some point, and if Bereth isn't careful she might find his liquor stash, too. I can't actually decide which is more concerning: caffeinated Flayn, or drunk Flayn.
> 
> Edited 01/03/21 for consistency and quality.


	25. Lifeblood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hilda confronts Claude, Edelgard approaches Sylvain, Byleth comforts Dimitri, Bereth learns some intriguing information from Flayn, and Edelgard makes some new friends in this completely action-less chapter. That's right, it's (almost) all dialogue. You're welcome.
> 
> Some strong content notes for substance abuse and suicidal ideation.

Rain continued to fall the next morning, and gave no sign of slowing down for the whole rest of that week, to boot. Claude had kept up with his meditation for over a decade at this point (by his count, anyway - time travel doesn’t reset it if you still remember), so there was no reason for him to let the absence of dawn’s first tentative light keep him from it. He rose from his bed, fished out some incense and a small wooden stand to hold it from a desk drawer, and lit it. As the pleasant, familiar aroma filled his dorm room, Claude began bending and stretching to limber himself up before settling in for his daily peace, only to be interrupted by a knock at the door. He hissed in annoyance, and quickly extinguished his incense, opening the window and drawing from his tiny pool of magical energy to clear the air of smoke with a fast, weak Wind spell, before finally cracking the door open.

To his surprise (or lack thereof, considering who it was), Hilda pushed into his room. She was without her usual charming smile, which meant… what, exactly? What could have gotten Hilda of all people up at the crack of dawn? He gave her one of their friendly mock bows, only for her to give him nothing in return. The faintest hint of nervousness prickled at the base of his neck, but he pushed it aside.

“Well, to what do I owe the pleasure of such fine company this early in the day? A bit early for tea, don’t you think?” He flashed an easy smile, which only made Hilda frown. His nervousness grew a little.

“We need to talk, Mister Future Man.” Hilda’s tone was firm, and Claude quickly realized that there was no getting out of this right now. He sighed. To buy himself some time, he followed it up with a chuckle, adding “Y’know Hilda, it’s nice to know you’ve always been this bad at names. Warms my heart right up.” She shook her head. “No, Claude, I’m not interested in future stuff right now. I want to know why the Professor was so adamant about you being careful about Almyra.”

He swallowed, nervously. Hilda hadn’t heard the actual truth from him in _his_ timeline, and he’d become the king then! And that was after five long years of Hilda growing as a person. It was no secret that she was pretty ignorant when they first came to Garreg Mach. For her to ask him about this directly now…

“Well, the great ‘Eastern Menace’ holds a lot of danger for us Alliance-types. I would have thought you’d know that, being a Goneril.” She met his gaze with a determination in her eyes that he was used to from her older counterpart. Part of him did a somersault at seeing it, before he quieted it down. This wasn’t _his_ Hilda.

She huffed. “Come on, Claude. Be serious. You called me your ‘right-hand gal’ at our first secret time travel squad meeting, but you won’t tell me anything about the future that could actually be useful or interesting, and you’re keeping me at arm’s length about this now, too. It’s like you don’t trust me at all!” She crossed her arms, reclining back on his bed. She always took the comfy spots, even while pissed at him. He half-leaned, half-sat on his desk, and sighed.

“You’re right, and I’m sorry. Although, it’s not just being from another time that has me acting this way. You might say that I grew up in an environment where it was necessary to think like this. See, I wasn’t born into a life of luxury. Ever since I was a child, I’ve always been seen as…different from those around me. An outsider. I’ve been resented and hated, and there have been quite a lot of attempts on my life. Some were my fault, but most were from people treating me like garbage for things I couldn’t control. So now, I make sure to keep as much as I can under control, and keep everything else close to the vest.”

He ran his hand through his hair, playing with his braid. Hilda stared at him intently. “But you’re the heir of House Riegan. How could you have been treated that badly? The Alliance can be cutthroat, but not _that_ cutthroat.” He laughed, bitterly. “The Alliance is child’s play compared to what I’m used to.”

“Let me tell you a little story about how I grew up. Out there, you had to constantly watch your back. Outsiders were viewed as weak, and strength was how people won respect. When I was a kid, I wasn’t strong. So I had to be smart, always moving, and always scheming. I grew up not having others to rely on, so I had to fight my own battles. Then, I came here, to the Officer’s Academy. I thought it might be a new start… Somewhere I could find something different. And what did I find, you might ask?” 

“I found that the people here view anyone who's an outsider as a beast of sorts. I was shocked! Even though our cultures and beliefs are completely different, my home and this place have that disdain for outsiders in common. That's when I realized the only way to change things for both places is to bring the whole world together and start anew. That's the dream I've been working towards since I entered the Officers Academy the first time, all those years ago."

“You know, in my first life, I had Teach by my side. He was… It’s hard to describe, really. When I first saw him wield the Sword of the Creator, I wanted to use his power to my advantage, for the sake of my dream. But before long, I realized that his presence in my life was invaluable. It felt like… fate, like a miracle brought us together. Or maybe some god had empathized with me and my dreams. I realized that what I really wanted was to see that new world... with him by my side. I still feel that way, even now that things are so different. I probably always will.”

He smiled, ruefully. “And yet… for the sake of my dream, I had to leave him behind to watch over Fodlan, while I went back home to change things there. I fully intended to come back, to unite our efforts and lead a world at peace, without a need for insiders and outsiders anymore. But some capricious whim of fate destroyed everything. Now, in this life, I remember Teach, and Teach remembers me, but… This Teach isn’t _my_ Teach, you follow? Just like you aren’t _my_ Hilda. What you just asked me is something that not even _my_ Hilda knew. So… Are you absolutely sure you want to hear it? There’s no going back once you do, believe me.”

Hilda didn’t respond right away, and Claude began to contemplate dashing down to Byleth’s room to beg that she turn back time to before Claude opened his stupid, lonely mouth. But then, Hilda surprised him. She started to laugh, softly. He cocked an eyebrow at her.

“It’s cute you’re so concerned about me. But I’m worried about you, and I was at it first today. So I get my worry handled first, okay? Anyway, look… I don’t care if it’s hard to hear. Besides… You just showed me a real smile.” He looked at her nonplussed. “Come again?”

She nodded, mostly to herself. “When you smile or laugh, most of the time, it’s not sincere. I can tell because you and I aren’t that different. I’ve only seen you smile for real once or twice, and it’s always when you’re thinking about _your_ Byleth. That one earlier was sad, but it was real, too. Your dreams and your ‘Teach’ were so important to you that you were willing to risk everything for them, and now you’re here without either of them…” She looked away, actually seeming to be honest to gods bashful for once.

She was on a roll, though, and made no sign of stopping now. “You’re important to me, too. Even though I haven’t known you for nearly as long as you’ve known me, something about you just… compels me to trust you. So, I want to hear it, even if you think I’ll react badly. You could… I don’t know! You could tell me you’re actually some evil bad guy from those people we’re fighting, but that you had a change of heart because of love, and I’d accept you. You could tell me that you were the King of Almyra, and that you’d crossed swords with my father and brother at the Throat a thousand times, and I’d still accept you. It doesn’t matter. So… Tell me what you’ve got to say, and I’ll listen.”

Claude stared at Hilda in shock for several moments. Then, he started to laugh. _This girl!_ He laughed so hard and so sincerely that tears started to well up in his eyes, and before he knew it, he’d lost control. He didn’t know where one emotion started and another took over, and for the moment, that was alright. Part of him _hated_ it, hated losing control over himself at all, much less in front of someone important to him. But it had been so long since he’d been able to truly let his guard down… When he came back to awareness of himself, he and Hilda were kneeling on the floor. She looked concerned, but there was a hint of a smile at seeing him so open and sincere for once.

“You alright, Mister Future Man?” He nodded, and replied back in a smaller voice than he meant to use, “You just… surprised me, is all.”

He sighed. “You were pretty close, actually. Truth is… I _am_ from Almyra. Though as of right now I’m the crown prince, not the king.” Hilda’s eyes widened in surprise, but she didn’t say anything, which Claude took as a sign to continue.

“You might have heard of my mother, Tiana von Riegan. She met the current king of Almyra, my father, back when he was still a prince. They fell in love, she eloped with him back to Almyra, and then she spent the next two decades up to the present day kicking the ass of anyone and everyone who said she didn’t belong there. By the time I was born a couple years into their marriage, she’d come to be known and feared as the Demon Queen of Almyra. We… Almyrans, that is, aren’t like what the stories people tell in Fodlan say we are.”

“Sure, the Almyrans fight a lot, but it’s not like that’s all there is to it. We have our own culture, our own way of life… Even if I wasn’t always accepted there, in coming here, I was able to realize that the gaps between our two peoples could actually be bridged, with just a little effort. Hell, in my first life, I was able to convince your brother Holst to sit down and have a drink with the commander of the Almyran army, Nader the Undefeated. They’ve met on the battlefield countless times, but by the time they were through they had sworn themselves to be brothers in arms.”

"There are gods there who see the world as a whole, who don't care about Fodlan's borders... Who don't meddle in human affairs, and don't grant life or take it away. Maybe, sometimes, they'll make a miracle happen, but that's it... I think people should be free to believe in whatever gods they want. If a person believes in a god and that god becomes a support system to them, that's a good thing. That's what a god should be. But even so, it’s not like Almyrans spit on Fodlan’s goddess. It’s just something we hold differently.”

“We’ve got different musical traditions, and art, literature… Fashion. We’re a complex people, not barbarians or monsters, and I--”

He was cut off by a mouthful of pink hair as Hilda pulled him into a tight hug. He waited a moment or two, then returned it. When they broke apart, Hilda had a wide smile. “No wonder she wanted you to do your investigating with them, then, huh?” He smiled weakly - Byleth was still a sore area, after all - but nodded. “There’s literally no one better suited to it than I am at Garreg Mach.” He fidgeted for a moment, before speaking again. “I was really worried, you know. You… In my first life, you didn’t exactly hate Almyrans, but you had the typical Fodlan attitude, and I never actually got to tell you the truth. I was worried that you were going to reject me over this, I won’t lie.”

Hilda shook her head vehemently. “Never. You’re my friend, and if I’ve got that attitude it’s only because I don’t know enough.” He could see an idea form in her head, and she gasped. “I know! You can tell me more about what Almyra is like, and in return… Uh… Well I guess I’ll just keep doing what I already do, but maybe with a little less complaining. Maybe.” 

He barked out a laugh at that. “I can do that, Miss Goneril. In fact, I’d be happy to.”

\---

Edelgard woke early on the morning of the 12th of Verdant Rain, determined to fulfill her mission for Byleth: find Dimitri’s friends, and win them over. While brushing her hair to get it ready to be inevitably mussed by the humidity brought on by rain, Edelgard ran through scenarios in her mind. To say that she wasn’t looking forward to dealing with Sylvain, despite the hidden depths Byleth promised existed within him, would be an understatement. She would almost rather deal with Felix, who was next on her list of targets. _Targets…_ She shook herself - that was Flame Emperor talk, and Edelgard was determined to be more than just the Flame Emperor. Byleth trusted her. Byleth and Sothis gave her a different path to walk. She would endure a thousand Sylvains if it meant an end to the crest system, and their happiness.

She smiled to herself, satisfied with what she saw in the mirror at last, and headed out to find Sylvain. His dorm room was an unlikely start, given his proclivity for overnight liaisons, but it was worth checking anyway. She knocked on his door confidently, and waited in the hallway in silence. She heard commotion both from within and without - looking down the hall, she was surprised to find Hilda pushing her way into a room she was sure was Claude’s at the same ungodly hour she was attempting to enter Sylvain’s. Soon, though, the thought was driven from her mind as Sylvain yanked his door open, staring down at Edelgard.

“Oh… Hey there, Princess… To what do I owe the, uh, honor…? The stench of liquor was on his breath, and it was all Edelgard could do not to wrinkle her nose at it. “I had hoped to talk to you, Sylvain. I know you are in a… difficult time, and…”

Sylvain scoffed. “So what, it’s just Miklan. Just his dumb ass getting killed, no need to worry… Sorry, language. I know… Ingrid would slap me right about now... Anyway, it’s not worth your time. Neither of us are.” He turned to go back inside, and Edelgard shot a hand out to grab his arm. He didn’t immediately pull away, but he tensed, and Edelgard slowly let go, muttering an apology. Sylvain, however, cracked a smirk. “Well well, I didn’t realize Her Imperial Highness was so needy. Say, where’s that retainer of yours? I sure wouldn’t want to eat a Mire spell while we were busy…”

Forcing down her disdain, Edelgard simply said “Hubert is a loyal friend, but he is not at my side at every hour of the day. In any case, may I come in? I merely wish to talk to you.” Sylvain muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “ _bullshit_ ”, but he waved her in after a few moments, shutting the door behind her and sliding downwards to rest on his desk. His room smelled like a brewery, but she forced herself to wear a neutral face.

He looked up at her, bleary-eyed, and a quick glance around his room explained his condition. Empty bottles littered the floor, and Edelgard noticed with a start that there was not a single empty plate or bowl to match them. Before she could speak, however, Sylvain laughed bitterly. “You know… Your reputation’s going to be shot if anyone saw you come in here. The unmarried crown princess of the Empire, paying an early morning visit to a no-good scoundrel like me?” He tutted, mockingly. “What _would_ your courtiers say?”

She shook her head. “I think you misunderstand. I came here because I was made aware that you were hurting. I could not care less about what the foolish nobles of the Imperial court think.” He cocked his head to the side, staring at her. “But… why are you even here? I’m just having fun. Blowing off some steam, y’know? Or… do you not know? Nah… I bet a spoiled-rotten princess like you has had tons of excuses to end up like this over the years, yeah?”

Sylvain was as trying as she had expected. He let out a drunken guffaw, and Edelgard barely resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose. Scratch that. He was _worse_ than she expected. Sighing, she responded at last to him. “So… You believe that getting drunk without taking care of yourself is fun? A pity.”

He shook his head vehemently, then appeared to regret the sudden motion as he gripped the sides of his head. After a moment or two to steady himself, he shot her a lecherous smile. “Well, you’re _close_ , Princess. See… Playing around with girls is easily the most fun a guy can have. This is a… well, I guess it’s not _that_ close of a second. But anyways, I don't care what you think of me. I don't intend to change how I live my life. I'm a good-for-nothing, if you haven't noticed, but I'm still a noble with a crest. That's all anyone cares about. Not like the Empire’s any different.”

Now they were getting somewhere. Edelgard nodded, to Sylvain’s apparent surprise. “I hate that you are correct, but there is no way around it. The Empire is also obsessed with the power of crests, though perhaps not to the extremes of Faerghus.” Sylvain scoffed again, cursing under his breath.

“You don’t even know the half of it. In the Kingdom, most children who are born to noble families are tested at birth to see if they bear a crest. Especially for descendants of the Ten Elites, like myself, the rule is that you can't be a legitimate heir without a _fucking crest_. That means, as children, we're only accepted if we're born with one. The heads of noble houses keep popping kids out until they get one with a crest. Those kids grow up to be heads of their houses, and the vicious cycle continues. It’s…”

Edelgard flooded with sympathy. “It’s why your brother has done what he has, correct?” Sylvain nodded. His eyes softened.

“You know… Even as a little kid, I understood why he was like that. My mere existence stole everything from him. I have no right to complain when I am surrounded by people who would give anything to have a crest, but don’t. Now, women smile at me for the same reason my parents adored me... and my brother wanted me dead. And I have to meet them all with a smile and a wink because I have a crest."

Edelgard nodded. “It is unjust. It’s _wrong_.” Sylvain laughed again, and an edge crept into his voice. “Doesn’t matter, Princess. It’s how the world works, you ought to know that. It's not like anyone chooses to be born with a crest. Just happens that way, and if you hit the bloodline lottery, you get to be pampered, and cared for, and used as a stud horse… Sometimes I think that if I didn't have a crest, no one would look at me twice."

Edelgard shook her head forcefully. “I disagree. I’ve heard the way your friends speak of you. Dimitri in particular is very fond of you. Not for your crest - I doubt he cares about it at all, to be honest - but because of your heart and your mind. The reason I’m even here at this goddess-forsaken hour when I could be in bed is because of how much your friends believe in you. Besides…” She paused, bracing herself. Sylvain was drunk - how much trouble could she really get into here if she let her true colors show?

“Personally, your situation resonates with me. Crests as they are now bring nothing but misery and sorrow anywhere they emerge. I dream of and strive for a world where they are irrelevant quirks of birth, no different than hair or eye color.” Sylvain eyed her strangely, before letting out a cautious, shaky laugh. “Yeah… Good one, Princess. That’s not very nice of you to say when I bared my fucking soul like that, but sure… Kick me while I’m down.” Edelgard stood to her full height, allowing a hint of anger to enter her voice. 

“I beg your pardon? Did you just accuse me of lying to you? I despise crests every bit as much as you do. Perhaps more. There is no lie in what I’ve said here this morning, at all. I…” She sighed. She had already come this far. There was nothing more for it than to tell her tale in brief. Byleth may have said that Sylvain didn’t need to know everything, but his bullheadedness was vexing her.

“I once had ten siblings. Nobles within the Empire, emboldened after their heinous actions in the Insurrection of the Seven, saw fit to whittle the Hresvelg bloodline down to a single living heir... They murdered my siblings, and other, innocent people, all for the sake of _enhancing_ my crest power, so that their little puppet emperor could be stronger. Crests are nothing but a source of misery to me, as they are to you. I want them _gone_ , Sylvain. Irrelevant as dust in the wind. To make that a reality, I have grown strong. I will stop at nothing to achieve my dream, and honor those who died in pain and ignominy for the sake of crests. I had thought… I had thought that we might perhaps be kindred spirits.”

Sylvain looked down at his feet. For a while, neither of them said anything. 

“Fuck.”

“Fuck indeed, Sylvain.”

He finally raised his head, looking her in the eye. She wasn’t sure how much their talk had sobered him, but he was at least finally being serious with her. “If… if I believed you… What would you want me to do?”

Edelgard finally allowed herself a smile. “For now? I want you to go bathe, eat, and train. You’re coming with us this moon. We can address the rest after we deal with this situation, wouldn’t you agree?” Sylvain sighed deeply, but stood to his full height, offering her a shaky bow in the Faerghan style. “I do. And I’ll do it. And… Thanks, for this.” She shook her head. “Don’t worry about it. I could never leave behind a single other person whose soul bleeds like mine. Now… Go get cleaned up. Dimitri would be upset if he found you like this, and he is trying to deal with when he’s worried.”

\---

Byleth headed down to the training grounds before breakfast that morning to blow off some steam. She’d have to find time to spar with Yuri and Edelgard at some point, but for now, they were going to be busy. The hall was deserted except for Felix and Dimitri, who were examining an ornate sword. She tried not to eavesdrop, but Felix was soon yelling at Dimitri, so it was hard not to pick up on the disdain he felt for Dimitri’s darker side. She slid through practice forms, limbering up before moving onto her more challenging maneuvers, when Felix stormed out of the hall. Glancing over, she noticed Dimitri looking forlorn. She sighed, softly. Training could wait a little longer.

“Dimitri.”

The blond prince snapped his head upwards, finding her and attempting to pull on a false smile. “Ah, Professor. Good morning. I… I’m sorry you had to see that.” He fidgeted in place.

Byleth looked at him for a moment, gauging what she might say, how she might broach this… At Sothis’ insistence, she opted to start with Felix. “You know… Despite his interesting way of showing it, Felix cares about you.” He didn’t scoff, at least, which was an encouraging sign.

“I suppose that somewhere, very deep down, he must. Otherwise he likely would have run me through by now. It… We used to be so close, before. It saddens me greatly to see the distance between us now.” Byleth grabbed a pair of feather-light training swords, and thrust one into Dimitri’s right hand. “Why don’t we talk and dance at the same time?”, she said, smiling.

He cocked his eyebrow, but then nodded, and entered a ready position. They began a slow, low-intensity spar so as not to aggravate his mending wounds. For the first little bit, they were silent outside of noises of exertion. Then, Byleth spoke again. “By before, you mean before Duscur?”

He frowned, but did not intensify his swings. It was a gamble, talking to him about this now, but Byleth reckoned that she could simply roll back time if he went too far and hurt himself, so there was no _real_ harm in it.

“Yes, and no. The gulf between us certainly started after Duscur, after Glenn… But there was another incident that widened it to a chasm. It was two years ago. There was a minor rebellion in the western part of Faerghus. I and a group of Kingdom knights rode out to quell it. Felix was squired to one of those knights at the time, and…” 

Dimitri’s arm stilled for a moment, and Byleth waited patiently for him to resume. He shook himself, and began sparring again. “We put the rebellion down, but Felix… He’s the only one, outside of Dedue, my step-sister, and you, that knows how I truly am. The bloodlust I showed him that day inspired Felix to start calling me the ‘Boar Prince’, and he has never once let that moniker slip. I haven’t heard him call me by name since then.”

“What do you think about that?” He froze mid-swing, and stared at Byleth. “What do I… think? One of my best friends from childhood hates me, for good reason! How should I feel, if not ashamed?”

Byleth shook her head. “Shame is your ghosts talking. Shame is nothing but stabbing yourself in the thigh, over and over.”

He cocked his head to the side, confusion evident on his face. Sothis giggled from within Byleth’s mind as the image of a curious puppy swam before her. “I… I’m afraid I do not follow, Professor. How can you say that? Are we not all driven, on some level, by shame? Is it not a natural thing to feel?”

 _“Oh. That explains quite a lot. Dear me, this poor boy…_ ” Byleth hummed in response to Sothis, feeling a wave of sadness mixing with her own emotions. She was silent for a few moments, letting the slow, rhythmic clacking ring out in the training grounds as the smell of rain surrounded them.

“Shame… Shame is the product of the worst parts of our mind. It’s guilt corrupted from its useful purpose into something that inflicts needless pain. If you feel guilt for something, you feel uncomfortable because you think that you have done something wrong, and want to make things right, right?” He nodded, and she noticed a thin sheen of sweat on his brow. He was approaching his limit, though he would never say so directly. “Well… shame is what happens when the unkind parts of our mind warp that guilt. Suddenly, you start feeling not as if you’ve _done_ something wrong, but that something about you fundamentally _is_ wrong.”

She suddenly darted forward, flicking her sword deep into Dimitri’s grip. With a twirl, his sword went flying from his hand, and she backed up a pace, flashing a smile. “Point. Let’s sit for a moment so you can rest.” He opened his mouth to protest, but evidently thought better of it as he shook his head. They walked over to one of the benches along the walls, and sat in silence for a few moments.

He shook his head again. “I… I have never considered that there might be a distinction between the two. It is a strange idea to me. And… You never feel shame?” His icy blue eyes met her dark blue ones with a hint of desperation, and she sighed. “No, that’s not true. I’ve just… I’ve lived long enough to know the difference, and learned how to let go of shame. That’s the best and worst part about it - the feeling of shame is something that only you can get rid of.”

“Can you teach me?”

She looked back at him, a small smile playing at her lips. “I could, but it would be better for Manuela to cover that, I think. She’s a wise person, Dimitri. You can trust her.” He sighed, and rubbed the back of his head. “I know that, but… It is hard for me to let people into my more… vulnerable areas. After our mission to help Ingrid, the two of us finally discussed Duscur at length, and we had spoken of my ghosts even before I told you of them, but… It is different when I speak to you. I can’t explain it.”

“So you can broach subjects with her after you talk about them to me? Why not just tell me all of the things that you struggle with, then, so you can tell her?” He looked up, astonished. “That… that’s genius! Yes! That… But, no. I cannot ask you to do this. It is too great a burden to place on a friend.”

Byleth shook her head. “That’s what friends are for, Dimitri. Some day, I hope you can come to be as open with Sylvain, Ingrid, Dedue, and Felix as you are with me. They’re all your friends too.”

He looked down toward the ground, hopefully mulling her words over. “I still feel ill at ease about it. Are you certain?”

She nodded, then added “Why not let me ask you a few questions? You can say as much or as little as you want, and then we can go get some breakfast. I don’t know about you, but I’m famished.” He laughed, softly. “Is that not always the case with y-- Oh! Oh, oh no! I’m so sorry, please forget that I said that! It was so insensitive of me…”

Byleth, however, laughed harder than she'd had cause to in quite a while. When she calmed down a little, she shook her head. “Not happening. That’s one of the funniest things you’ve ever said to me. I’m keeping it right here.” She tapped her forehead and smirked. “In all honesty, it’s fine. I think you’re allowed to be sassy every now and again to a friend. And even if you don’t think so, I do.” He nodded wordlessly, his face scarlet from embarrassment. 

“I’m not going to pull any punches with these. Are you ready?” 

“As I’ll ever be.” He set his face into a grimace. “Go ahead.”

She tapped her chin, thinking of the right way to phrase her first question. Finally, she landed on it. “What are your dreams in life, and how did Duscur change them?”

Dimitri looked confused. “My… dreams? I… I have never given it any thought.” Byleth shook her head. “That’s bullshit, Dimitri. I know you have. I don’t need you to wax poetic for hours, but I want you to at least be honest with me. Is it painful to talk about your dreams now, after Duscur?”

He nodded. “I have no business with dreams. I have no business making promises for the future. There are things that I must accomplish, even if it means risking my life. So… I may not even have a future to promise anything with.”

“And if that pain could be taken away? If you accomplished your goals, killed the people who hurt you, who took your family away… What would you do then?”

They sat in silence for a few minutes, listening to the rain. Dimitri was deep in thought. Finally, as Byleth was readying herself to back down, he spoke. “Can… Can I be completely, truly honest with you?”

She nodded, already knowing where this was going.

“I don’t have any plans for afterwards… Likely because I have never intended on surviving this conflict. I will… I will have vengeance, of course, but a creature like me does not deserve to live, after so many others died. Not a day goes by when I do not wish that I had been taken instead of them, that I had died in the flames at Duscur. I wish it with all my heart… It is why I throw myself so recklessly into battle. Death refused to take me then, but it cannot run forever.”

He forced a smile onto his face. “I suppose you think me a beast now, too? I would.”

Byleth laid a hand on Dimitri’s temple, releasing healing magic. “None of that, now. You’re human, as human as myself or Edelgard. And… Stop putting that brave face on. A… wise friend once told me that there was no need for anyone to force themselves to smile as their soul bleeds.”

The smile fell from his face, leaving behind a haunted shell. His shoulders quaked as he struggled, vainly, to hold back tears. She dragged him up from his seat suddenly, over to the open-air portion of the training grounds. As the rain poured down on them, he looked at her in confusion. 

“I know you Faerghans can’t stand people seeing you be vulnerable. Now it’ll just look like we’ve been in the rain. So… Let go. If you need to weep, then weep. Sothis knows you of all people have reasons for it.”

He collapsed forward, and Byleth was silently thankful that he was still in his teenaged body - there was no way she could have supported a fully-grown Dimitri’s weight on her frame. He wept hot tears into her shoulder, and Byleth felt a strange compulsion once again, like she had in Daphnel territory. She started singing, softly, and though the words were alien to her, the tune was not. It was Sothis’ song. She materialized next to Byleth, a strange look in her eyes.

They stayed like that for some time, until they heard the bells tolling out eight o’clock. Dimitri started, and she realized that he had, at some point, cried himself to sleep. He pulled away from her sheepishly, staring at the ground. She put a hand on his shoulder, and he reluctantly met her gaze. “I’m honored that you would trust me enough for this, Dimitri. And… Truthfully, I can think of many things that you can live for, after this fight. That you cannot see them yourself yet tells me that you aren’t quite ready to join us fully, but you’re closer than I had dared hope.”

He nodded, still silent. She pressed on. “I want you to talk to Manuela about this. She’s… Well, I don’t have to tell you she’s good at this, now, do I?” The faintest smile flickered on his lips, and he shook his head. “No, Professor… I know she is. I… Thank you. For…” He opened his mouth to speak several times, before shaking his head. “Thank you.”

Byleth jerked her head toward the exit. “Want to get out of here? You’ll catch a cold like this, and then Dedue will come after me. I’d rather not have that happen, seeing as he knows where I live.” She smiled. He started to walk, then stopped, confusion on his face. “Wait, I… Professor, what was that song you were singing? It was incredible, and yet… I cannot seem to place any of the words from it at all.” Byleth looked at Sothis, then said, quietly, “It’s something a very dear friend of mine wrote, a very long time ago… It’s soothing, isn’t it?” He nodded.

“Come on. Let’s get you some place warm and dry, eh?”

\---

Bereth had arrived in the library bright and early that morning. To say that he was nervous was an understatement. Flayn and Seteth had always mystified him, and it didn’t help matters that another green-haired mystery man had suddenly showed up with the two of them and Byleth just the other day. Not to mention Byleth’s ominous warning that there was a plot afoot to harm young Flayn. She clearly knew far more than she let on about that family, but for whatever reason had not deigned to tell him. He knew that she kept secrets with good intentions, but it did bother him not to know what she did.

He pushed it out of his mind as a sharp knock sounded from his door. Standing, he opened it, only to find Balthus, who was a large and imposing friend of Yuri’s, along with Seteth and Flayn. The former two looked quite grim, but Flayn was already a bundle of energy. “Ah! Good morning, Dean Bereth! I am so excited to aid you in your research! What shall we work on first?” He laughed, softly. “It’s good to see you so enthusiastic, Miss Flayn. I shall talk more in depth about what we will be doing in a moment; for now, please make yourself comfortable.” 

Seteth fixed him with a stern gaze. “Dean. Please be aware that I do not usually agree to allow my sister to do this kind of task. The Archbishop was insistent, so I of course obliged, but… Well, I trust I do not need to elaborate, do I?” This was pageantry, of course, designed to fool Solon, who was undoubtedly listening in from somewhere nearby, but it still rankled him a little. Seteth was an intimidating man, and Bereth was quite certain that he was in fact actually this stern when it came to his sister. Still, he had a role to play. “Of course, of course! I appreciate Her Grace’s efforts and your magnanimity in equal measure. Not to mention your sister’s vaunted White magic talents.” Seteth hummed in response, before excusing himself. Bereth nodded to Balthus, who shot him a grin, then turned on his heel.

Upon closing the door, he formed Muffling sigils, and only after they had been applied did the torrent unleash upon him. 

“I really cannot thank you enough for doing this! My brother can be so overbearing, though I know he means well. It is just… Well, it’s nice to spend time with family other than him. Not that I dislike him! I just… Oh goodness, I’m sorry, I’m already babbling and we’ve only just begun!”

“Ah, it’s quite alright… Er. Wait, though.” He replayed her words in his mind, finding the point where she _did_ in fact imply that the two of them were family. “You… said that we are family? How can that be?”

Flayn’s eyes grew wide. “Oh dear… I, well… Pardon me, I’m afraid I’ve said something I shouldn’t have. It’s just… Well…” A mischievous smirk made its way onto her face. “What Brother does not know cannot hurt him. You, Dean Bereth, are my… cousin, I suppose? It is rather complicated, but your mother Sitri is related to us, which means that you and Professor Byleth are as well! It brings my heart such joy to be around more family after all these long years…”

Talking to Flayn was like attempting to drink from whitewater rapids. Bereth felt a small surge of pride - a lesser man would likely have folded by now, but there was no challenge his mind was not capable of defeating, even if it was as simple as parsing and understanding the frenzied speech of his apparent cousin.

“Well, I quite agree! Finding out that I had a father and a sister was a joy for me. To find that I have more family is even more so! Though… If we are family, could I perhaps persuade you to drop some of your formal speech?” He smiled, expecting the radiant girl before him to return it. When she did not, his own smile faltered. “Er… Have I offended you? My apologies, if that’s the case…”

Flayn shook her head vehemently, green tendrils of hair whipping about. “No, no! I took no offense, I promise you! It is just… Well, truth be told, I am not particularly well versed in the ways of ordinary people. My brother never taught me of such things, and he strictly forbade me from spending much time out and about on my own." She frowned. “I have not been allowed to interact with the students of the Officer’s Academy or the worshipers of the Church for years now. I know he does it to protect me, but…”

Bereth’s heart broke. “Oh, dear… I’m sorry, Flayn. I didn’t realize that it would bring up such soreness. It was not my intention, truly.” She smiled at that, and shook her head. “No, no. I am not upset at you. It is something of a sticking point between my brother and I, but _you_ have actually managed to defeat his wary protectiveness! It’s quite incredible, really. I suppose being family helps, but even so, I am ever so grateful.”

He returned her smile, before clapping his hands. “All right! I hope that you were serious about wanting to help me, because I have a project that I think could benefit immensely from your aid. It is among the most advanced White magic I have ever tinkered with, and I created that Muffling spell we’ve all taken to using.” Her eyes sparkled with enthusiasm, and he opened up the locked drawer in his desk, retrieving his documentation and notes on Sothis’ time manipulation magic.

“Ah… Here, you know what? I shall come around to that side, that way neither of us will need to crane our necks.” He shifted around, settling into the seat next to Flayn and beginning to lay out all his papers on the desk in front of him. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that Flayn had turned a light shade of pink, but he pushed the thought aside. Drawing on his most theatrical voice, he cleared his throat, flinging his arms open. “Allow me to present to you, dear Flayn, the time manipulation magic used by the Goddess Herself when she yet walked Fodlan! I have been attempting to recreate it painstakingly for some time now, using whatever feedback Sothis is capable of remembering. It…”

He paused, shifting in his seat, and lowering his arms. “It has not gone as well as I would have liked. But! That is why I am excited to be joined by such a renowned expert in White magic. If anyone can aid me, I believe it to be you!”

Flayn’s eyes grew enormous. “Grandm--, that is, er, grand, Bereth! To think that we might be able to draw close to her power after all these years… I am honored to assist you in this endeavor!” With a smile, they began to work.

Several hours later, Flayn’s pace slowed. She had been looking over Bereth’s notes for some time while he attempted to, painstakingly, redraw the sigil first with the Crest of Seiros in place of the Crest of Flames and then with the Crest of Cethleann, but a small sigh from her caught his attention. “What is it, Flayn? Do you wish to take a break?” She nodded.

He rubbed his chin. “Well… We aren’t really supposed to leave without an escort… I could inquire if Father is busy, and we could go fishing?” Flayn’s eyes danced at the thought, but she stifled her joy, and shook her head. “No… I just… Would you mind speaking to me for a time?”

Bereth cocked his head to the side in confusion, but eventually nodded. “I would of course be delighted, but… Well, what would you like to talk about? I am not the best, ah… conversationalist, as it were.”

Flayn smirked. “That is quite alright. I am not all that talented at it either. But, if you would indulge me… I would like to talk about you.” He raised an eyebrow. “Me? I’m afraid I’m rather boring. Why me?”

"Well, because... there is something _different_ about you. You possess an air of mystery... The more that we interact, the more noticeable it becomes to me. I do not know what to make of it, and I am intrigued, to say the least. I find it rather difficult to put into words... Were I to wax poetic, I would say you remind me of the sea. Have you ever been?” 

Bereth shook his head, and Flayn looked as though she were about to gasp in shock before she mastered herself. “Well… Allow me to tell you about it, then!”

"The sea is vast. Boundless. On the surface, all seems still. Yet beneath that stillness, it is unfathomably deep. Within, it teems with life, yet without, one is lucky to glimpse a fleeting shadow. And yet, all one must do is cast a line to grasp hold of all that life! You cannot see it at a glance, but it is there all the same." She suddenly looked a little hungry. 

“Er… Flayn, my apologies, but, are we speaking of the sea, or of your love for fish?” Snapped back to reality, Flayn let out a small “oh!”, then laughed softly. “Ah, sorry. I do get carried away by the thought sometimes… I suppose it is nearly lunch time, is it not?” He nodded. “We can finish speaking about this first, though, if you would like.” She nodded enthusiastically.

“Well, in my comparison, I specifically am comparing you to a sea that I am quite familiar with, off of the Rhodos Coast. When I was quite small, my mother would take me out to play in that sea. She was an excellent fisher, my mother. I grew to love fish deeply because of her… I sense that, like the sea, your depths are seemingly impenetrable. Yet, despite your unknowable depths, there is something… familiar about you. It is as if we have met somewhere, long, long ago..."

She stopped speaking, appearing to be lost in thought. Bereth hummed. “Well… I suppose it’s possible that we met when we were both children? I have lived at Garreg Mach for my entire life, though I know you only came here in the past few years. I… feel that I would have recalled seeing you, though. You are quite unique, you know.”

Flayn blushed. “Ah… Um… Thank you. But, no, it is not possible that we met when I was a child. It is the strangest thing… In any event, forgive me for rambling on for so long. Would you like to escort me to the Dining Hall? I doubt any fiends are lurking to snatch me up in broad daylight in the middle of the monastery.” He smiled at her. “Well… Just to be safe, let’s try my father before we go. I’m sure he’d be delighted to spend more time with you as well. You should have heard him talk about you after your first fishing lesson with him.” She beamed up at him. Her smile was infectious. It was… precious, in some strange way. Bereth swore to himself then and there that he would never let Those Who Slither in the Dark harm that smile, or its owner.

\---

Edelgard decided that it was worth her while to stop by the training grounds after class ended. With a smile from Byleth, she was in quite high spirits, and thus didn’t notice the oncoming form of Sylvain until it was too late. The two of them collided in the walkway of the Officer’s Academy, falling over into a pile of limbs. Felix, who had been walking next to Sylvain, scoffed at the both of them, and stalked off, likely to go to the training grounds himself. She picked herself up, embarrassment rising, only to notice Sylvain still lying on the ground, clutching at his head. Fear rose up in her chest. “Sylvain! Are you injured?”

He opened one eye and glared at her. “Not… not so loud, please. Goddess why is everyone so loud…” Edelgard stared incredulously down at him, all of a sudden feeling a cold chill from behind her that she knew belonged to Hubert. She waved a hand behind her back to order him to stand down, before bending down towards Sylvain and offering him a hand of his own. She hauled the gangly cavalier back onto his feet, noting a distinct green tint to his skin. “You don’t look so good, Sylvain.” 

“Yeah, well… I don’t feel so good either, so we’re even.” Edelgard resisted the urge to laugh, settling for a drawn-out sigh instead. He chuckled at that, muttering something about his friend Ingrid. Edelgard gave him a visual once-over to ensure he wasn’t injured, then made to leave, before Sylvain quietly said “Wait.”

She crossed her arms and arched her eyebrow. “I… I was meaning to talk to you about Dimitri. Would you be willing to grab some tea with me? I promise I’m not gonna be… me, at you. I barely have the energy to stand right now, so...” Hubert, from behind her, tutted, but Edelgard nodded. “That is fine by me. I’d like to make sure you don’t get yourself into trouble anyway.” He grumbled, but said nothing in response. She nodded towards the dining hall, and he sighed wearily, but followed her lead.

She picked out a green tea, and poured both of them some water. Bringing it back to steep, she sat down opposite Sylvain, who had laid his head down on the long table. Setting his mug down firmly enough to alert him to her return, she sighed. “Please don’t do this to yourself again until after this mission, alright? It’s hard to watch.” He grimaced as he lifted his head back up. “I’m not exactly having the time of my life here, either… Anyway, look. I wanted to ask you about Dimitri. Me and Ingrid and Felix were talking, and… the two of you are kinda close, now, right? What’s up with that?”

She cocked an eyebrow at him. “I hope you aren’t implying anything.” He very gingerly shook his head. “No, no… I normally would, but I'm too tired… Anyway, we do want details, though.” She laughed softly - hungover Sylvain was far more pleasant to deal with than drunk Sylvain. “I suppose I don’t mind, and I doubt he would either. We are siblings by marriage. His step-mother was my birth mother.”

Sylvain’s eyes widened. “You mean… Queen Patricia? Oh. Damn… That’s… I’m sorry.” Edelgard nodded. “I appreciate your concern. I… understand she perished in the Tragedy of Duscur. Dimitri has not spoken about it to me, but…” Sylvain waved a hand. “Don’t worry about it too much. He hasn’t really even talked to us about it, and we’ve been his friends since we were all little shits… Although, the other day, he told us he wanted to. Now… I don’t know why he’s getting so much better all of a sudden. Maybe it’s your Professor, maybe not. But I think you’ve got something to do with it, too. So… Thanks.”

Edelgard nodded in acknowledgement, and felt a smile breaking through. “Byleth is just that kind of person. She wants everyone to be their best. It doesn’t surprise me that she is helping him so much.” Sylvain cocked an eyebrow at that. “ _Byleth_ , huh? Seems a little… informal.” Edelgard narrowed her eyes at him, and he immediately put his hands up in surrender.

The two of them sat in the relative quiet of the pre-dinner dining hall for a while, sipping at tea. Edelgard had a question, but didn’t know how to broach it best. Finally, though, she decided just to say it, and see what happened.

“You know, Sylvain, I lived in Fhirdiad for a time. Dimitri and I became quite close, though neither of us knew the other’s station. I’m… surprised that I never met any of you, though.” Sylvain looked at her scrutinizingly, as if trying to place her in his memory, but eventually gave up, shaking his head. “Yeah, I can’t really remember you, so I guess we must not have. It is strange, though. If you were there for a while surely we’d have met you. When was that?”

Edelgard looked upwards, thinking. “Well… The Insurrection of the Seven happened in 1171, which would have been when I first came to Fhirdiad. And we returned to the Empire in 1174. Does that help?” Sylvain thought it over, holding onto his still-warm mug of green tea. Then, suddenly, his eyes widened. “Oh. Oh shit… Say, listen, did you, uh… Did you ever dance with Dimitri?” Edelgard was confused by his question, but nodded. “You could say that I taught him, I suppose. I’m told that I was a strict teacher.” A smile played on her lips as she tried to imagine it.

“Holy shit. It was _you_. _You’re_ Dagger Girl!” Sylvain wore a jubilant expression, all his pain forgotten. “We gave Dimitri so much shit about you for _years_ , and to be honest I kinda thought you might not have been real. This is incredible!” Edelgard laughed, softly. “‘Dagger Girl’? What sort of name is… oh. Wait, do you mean this dagger?” She unsheathed Dimitri’s gift dagger, laying it on the table. Sylvain laughed as he saw it. “Yeah, that’s it, absolutely. Goddess, wait until I tell Ingrid and Felix. They’re going to love this.”

As if summoned, Ingrid entered the dining hall. “Love what, Sylvain? I… Oh Goddess, I’m so sorry, Princess Edelgard! Is he bothering you?” Edelgard shook her head, laughing. “No, no. We’re, ah… Swapping old stories, as it were?” Ingrid settled in next to Sylvain, eyeing the worn dagger on the table. Sylvain turned to Ingrid, smirking like mad. “Ingrid, you are never going to believe this. Edelgard here is Dagger Girl!” She turned back to face Edelgard, incredulity on her face.

Edelgard couldn’t help but laugh at the sight. Ingrid was normally so reserved and proper that seeing her stunned like this was bizarre. “You mean… You were His Highness’ girlf-- I, uh, I mean… Forgive me! I spoke completely without thinking.” Edelgard laughed even harder at that. “No, no, it was nothing like that. We were friends, yes, but that was all. Dimitri is, in actuality, my brother by marriage.” Ingrid’s eyes got even wider at that revelation, then finally she too started to laugh.

“That is incredible! It’s so wonderful that you and His Highness have been able to reconnect here at the monastery! And to find out that you were Dagger Girl this whole time, too!” She laughed again, and Edelgard was caught off guard by how pleasant it sounded. Ingrid wiped the corners of her eyes, then stood. “If you’re certain this one isn’t bothering you too much, I do need to go. I promised His Highness I would let him critique my lance technique, since we can’t actually spar. Oh! I can tell Felix, too!” She gave Edelgard a small bow, hissed something inaudible into Sylvain’s ear, and left, just as fast as she had come.

Edelgard raised an eyebrow at Sylvain, who shook his head. “She wants to make sure I don’t hit on you.” Edelgard chuckled. “I had plenty of that this morning, thank you.” Sylvain grimaced. “Yeah, I… about that. Listen. I’m sorry. I know I was an ass. I just… I got drunk because I wanted to stop feeling things about my idiot brother, and… Well, it was unfair to you.” 

She shook her head. “No harm done, Sylvain. Honestly, I can understand wanting to dull your pain. But… There are better ways to go about dealing with pain, you know.” She shifted in her seat, taking a sip of tea to collect her thoughts before continuing. “I was serious when I spoke before about my feelings toward the crest system. I want to tear it down, so that no one has to endure either side of the conflict between you and your brother again. It touched me to learn how similar our views were. Having someone like you in the Kingdom is an unexpected boon.”

He nodded. “I’d be willing to do almost anything to help that happen. I’d… prefer not to leave Faerghus behind and join up with you, but if it had to happen, I would.” Edelgard sipped her tea again, buying time. “I appreciate the sentiment, but I wouldn’t ask that of you. Dimitri needs his friends by his side. And who knows? Perhaps you can convince him to see things our way.” 

Sylvain grew quiet. “I… I can try, but… I think we’d have better luck if you could get Ingrid or Felix on board. They’ve both got reasons to hate how Faerghus does things, too.” Edelgard hummed. “Which would you suggest I speak to first?” Sylvain rubbed his chin, closing his eyes as he mulled it over.

“I think you should try Felix, first. He respects strength, and from what I know you’ve got that to spare. Just, uh… Be mindful - he hates knights, and knighthood. Trying to appeal to his nobility would get you on his bad side really quickly.” Edelgard nodded, and stood. “Thank you, Sylvain. This has been an enlightening conversation all around. I’ll work on Felix, then.” He cracked a grin. “Well then... I wish you the best of luck out there, Dagger Girl.” He chuckled to himself as Edelgard walked out of the dining hall, off to her next destination.

\---

She sensed the approach of the young bearer of Aubin’s blood before he announced himself. It was so strong in him, Aubin _had_ to have granted it to him personally, but there was never an opportunity to ask. She frowned, glancing up from the Archbishop’s desk where she had whiled away so many long days as Yuri gave her a curt bow. “Lady Rhea.”

She took a deep breath, pulling together her charm and persona. “Yuri. It is good to see you. Do you have something for me?” The young, purple-haired man nodded, then shut the door to the audience chamber. He weaved a strange spell, placing a ward on the door. She raised an eyebrow at him. He smirked at her - the nerve this boy had was something else. She almost, _almost_ smiled back at him, but she knew better than to reward cheek. He pointed to the door, and said “Muffling spell. Prevents us from being overheard. It’s gonna be necessary for this.”

He pulled out a sheaf of papers, and handed them to her. Before she had a chance to read them, he cleared his throat. “This is a report on the body of one Cornelia Arnim. She was... not human, Lady Rhea. I have told no one of my findings, besides you of course.” Her eyes opened wide, and a chill ran down her spine. If… If Yuri was suggesting that Cornelia had been some sort of impostor… That meant only one thing.

“Where is her body, Yuri?” He crossed his arms. “Cold storage, in Abyss. She was torn apart by monsters. It wasn’t pretty. The location is marked in that report.” She nodded, curtly. “Very good. That will be all. And… dear child, if I may?” He raised an eyebrow. “If I should learn that you _have_ spoken of this to anyone, or that you should do so after this moment? I do not need to detail what will befall Abyss, do I?” Anger flashed across his face for the briefest moment, before he forced a neutral mask over it. “No, Lady Rhea. You do not.”

She smiled. “Good. You are dismissed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Oh I won't write another fifteen pager, no big. It's just dialogue, not a battle scene. How bad could it get?"
> 
> Whoops. Believe it or not, this used to be *longer*. I cut out a couple scenes, which will appear later on.
> 
> Hey folks. The kids ain't alright. But they will be, some day. I promise.
> 
> Edited 01/03/21 for consistency and quality.


	26. The Tower of Black Winds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dimitri has a quiet moment with Sylvain, Byleth checks in on Catherine, and the Black Eagles make their way to Conand Tower.

“Ah, there you are.”

Sylvain jumped in his seat, which made Dimitri chuckle ever so slightly. He was clutching an empty mug, and evidently had been lost in thought even as the early dinner rush began. Dimitri sat down across from him, carefully studying his old friend’s face. He looked a bit ashen and drawn. Dimitri had harbored suspicions about his condition during class that day, but he had been so far in his own thoughts after his morning encounter with Byleth that he didn’t really take a proper look until now.

“You look…” He paused, trying to find the right word. Sylvain chuckled and grimaced. “Like shit, huh?” Dimitri stifled his laughter, then nodded. “Perhaps not how I would have put it, but, yes. Are you… How are you doing?”

Sylvain sighed. “Well… I’m guessing you’re not asking about my day, are you? I’d much rather talk about that, it was pretty interesting.” Dimitri shook his head. “I’ll ask about that later. For now, I’m worried about you. Or did you forget that our rooms are adjoining, and I rarely sleep through the night?” The redheaded cavalier winced, and let his shoulders droop a little.

Dimitri sighed. “I… I know this whole affair with Miklan is weighing heavily on you, but I wish that you would lean on us instead of doing this to yourself.” Sylvain shot him an odd look. “What?”

“Oh, nothing… Just weird to hear that coming from you. I know you said you want to get closer to us again and all, but… It’s still weird to me. I’m sorry.” Sadness crept into Dimitri’s chest.

“I… I know I haven’t been the best of friends to you, but I truly do want--” Sylvain shook his head, and growled out “No, Dimitri. Stop.” He sighed, then spoke again. “Sorry. It’s just… You shouldn’t be apologizing to us, we should apologize to you. You needed us after Duscur, and we weren’t there.”

He couldn’t help the faint smile that crept onto his lips, which Sylvain quickly noticed. “...why are you smiling?” Dimitri shook himself, trying to regain composure enough to turn this conversation back where he’d meant it to go. “It’s just… You called me ‘Dimitri’. It’s been a while since I’ve heard my name from any of you. I like it.” Sylvain’s cheeks got a little bit of their color back, and he smiled. “Well, yeah… It _is_ your name. Not like we forgot it…”

He returned the smile. “We can talk about days past later. For now, you never answered me. How are you doing about Miklan?” Sylvain shifted uncomfortably, tapping the empty mug with his fingers. “Could be better. Could be worse.”

Dimitri arched an eyebrow. Sylvain continued, hesitantly. “Well… I can’t blame him for any of this. I’ve always known why he hated me, hated our house. I stole everything from him just by being born. I…” He looked down, then back up into Dimitri’s eyes. There was a fire in them now that had been absent before.

“I hate crests, Dimitri. I hate how much we fetishize them. I hate how much we rely on them, not just in Faerghus, but in all of Fodlan. I hate how much they make us glorify death and chivalry and battle... I want to see their influence gone, so no other kids ever have to go through this shit.”

Normally, that kind of talk would be considered borderline treasonous, and definitely heretical. Yet, hearing it come from Sylvain… Dimitri could not simply dismiss his friend’s heartfelt desire, could he? He sighed. “Sylvain, I…”

Sylvain did not wait for him to finish, though. “I’m not the only one hurt by this, you know. That whole affair with Ingrid? Her entire situation then and now is because our ancestors put so much stock in crests that they wrote it into the fucking laws. Felix barely wants to be _Faerghan_ because of how disgusted he is by our society and way of life. And that’s not to mention how much the commoners suffer. Honestly, Dimitri… I agree with Felix. I’d do anything to make a better world than the one we have now, even if it meant leaving Faerghus behind.”

He looked carefully into his friend’s eyes. There was no hint of mirth, nothing to indicate he was joking, even if Dimitri was to try to dismiss what he was saying. And the iron in his voice told him he could not do so.

“Be careful in the coming days with that kind of talk. Rodrigue is scheduled to arrive at the monastery today, and it would devastate him to hear anything of that sort.” He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Sylvain… I… I have obviously not given this as much thought as you have. I will need to give it more, but… When I become king, perhaps together with the new Margrave Gautier, Duke Fraldarius, and Countess Galatea, we could change things.” Sylvain’s eyes bored holes into him. “I really, really hope you aren’t just saying that.”

“Come, my friend. When do I ever joke about such serious matters?” Sylvain blew out a shaky breath. “Or at all.” He smirked, ignoring Dimitri’s rising protest. “Kidding. Anyway… I’m glad you came by, though. It’s good to be able to talk with you like this again.”

Dimitri nodded. “Likewise, my friend. I… Perhaps after you return from Fraldarius, we could… we could talk about Duscur. Only if you’re willing - I wouldn’t want to--” “Dimitri.”

He looked up at Sylvain, realizing that his gaze had shifted downward while he had been speaking. “...yes?” Sylvain’s eyes were still firm, but he smiled warmly. “I’m willing whenever you want.” He sat still for a moment, not processing what he’d just heard. Then, slowly, he nodded. “Thank you, Sylvain.”

\---

Byleth was unsure _why_ Jeralt had sent Cyril after her, nor why he was leading her to the Knights’ Hall when she _could_ be eating dinner. She kept her huffiness inside, though, not wanting to give Cyril any sort of impression that she was unhappy with this arrangement. He always remembered and saw far too much. While she didn’t really think there was all that much to worry about with Rhea becoming displeased with her now, she’d still rather play it safe.

She was deposited rather unceremoniously in the Hall by Cyril, and quickly spotted three familiar faces. Catherine, with her now stark-white hair, was standing close to Shamir. The Dagdan sniper’s stoic face betrayed nothing, but her violet eyes were full of obvious concern as she looked at Catherine. Standing with them, slightly removed, was Rodrigue Achille Fraldarius, the current Duke Fraldarius and Felix’s father. She must have been making a face, as Catherine laughed upon seeing her, and waved her over.

“Professor, good to see you! I guess the Captain must have gotten my message. Anyway, come here, there’s someone I’d like you to meet. This is--” Byleth cut her off, smiling. “Lord Fraldarius, I presume? I’ve sparred with Felix enough to see the resemblance.” Rather than annoyance, though, Catherine laughed again. “I’ll bet you have. What was it you promised him the other day, when we sparred? To teach him Astra?” Byleth nodded, and she saw curiosity and pride in the older Fraldarius’ eyes. “He’s almost got it down better than me at this point.”

Rodrigue spoke next, his voice warm and commanding. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Professor. I’ve heard good things about you from Felix. He says you’ve been caring for the Blue Lions like they were your own despite not teaching their house. That warms my heart to hear, though I wish we could have met under better circumstances.” His face turned grave. “I assume you know why I’m here?” She nodded.

“This duty would usually fall to me. After all, the Aegis Shield of House Fraldarius is perfect for stopping the rampage of other Relics. But, when Margrave Gautier reported the theft of the Lance of Ruin to Her Grace, she called me off. I admit, I was a little hesitant at first, but Lady Cassan-- forgive me, Lady Catherine, has spoken quite highly of your skill.”

Catherine clapped an armored hand on Byleth’s shoulder. “This one is a one-woman army. She can fight me to a standstill holding back, and that was _before_ she was announced as the wielder of the Sword of the Creator.” Rodrigue’s eyes widened in shock. “What?! You… You can wield the most holy Relic in the Church of Seiros? Forgive me, I just never expected to hear that someone was able to do so… It’s incredible!” Byleth laughed. “The apple sure didn’t fall far from the tree where that’s concerned. Felix has been eyeing me ever since, asking to spar against it.”

They talked for a moment longer, but Rodrigue soon begged his leave and went off, likely to try to find Dimitri, Felix, or perhaps Sylvain. Byleth smiled as he left - he was a good man, and she hoped that her efforts this time were enough to save him from an untimely death protecting Dimitri, as he had died so many times in the past.

She turned her attention back to Catherine and Shamir. She flashed Shamir an apologetic look, then cleared her throat. “Ah… Shamir. Do you mind if I borrow Catherine for a moment? We won’t go far. Just need to ask something.” The sniper narrowed her eyes a little, but nodded after a moment’s deliberation. Catherine looked at her questioningly, but followed Byleth a little ways away, to the other end of the Knights’ Hall.

Once they were out of earshot, Byleth looked Catherine in the eye. “Be straight with me here. Have you told her yet?” Catherine let out an exasperated sigh. “No. I mean, what would I ever say? ‘ _Hey there, partner, guess who got her dumb ass cursed by some dark mage and now has a medical impossibility?_ ’ Come on.” Byleth resisted the urge to laugh. “I mean… That’s not a bad way to put it.” She received a glare in response, and sighed.

“Look. It’s not my place to pry into your personal life, but anyone can see how much you two care about each other. You’re going to need to tell her.” Catherine eyed her warily before she responded. “I _really_ don’t like how you said that last bit. What do you know? How much worse is this going to get?” Byleth fidgeted in place, tapping her fingers on her crossed arms. 

“I… Okay, look. I can’t tell you how I know this, and I’m not budging on that, so don’t even try. But… The fatigue and lowered stamina are likely just the beginning. The next thing you’re going to notice is that your eyes will change. The color will stay the same, but they’ll take on a different kind of quality. I can’t explain it, exactly, you’d have to see it to understand. And then, down the line…” She paused, unsure of how to explain the physical tolls that Catherine could expect.

“There was… there was someone I knew once who fought almost as hard as you do in every battle she was a part of. It ended up that after every single skirmish, she would come back and cough up blood. It ended up requiring several healers to stabilize her after a while.” Catherine pinched the bridge of her nose, and swore under her breath. 

“There’s more. She, ah… Her life expectancy was also drastically lowered. I don’t know if that’ll happen to you, because her condition was forced on her as a child by medical experimentation. I don’t know if what happened to you will have similar consequences, but… By the time she was that bad, we estimated that she had five years left, if that. She was twenty, then.”

Catherine slumped against the back wall. “So… So I’m dead in, what, ten years?” Byleth nodded, grimly. “Worst case scenario, yes. But that’s if everything mirrors my friend’s situation, which isn’t guaranteed, and if Hanneman can work out a method of removing one of your crests, then your lifespan would be extended, though probably not back to what it was.” Catherine snapped her head towards Byleth, and spat out in anger “REMOVE ONE?!”

Byleth motioned for her to quiet down - they’d attracted the attention of everyone in the Knights’ Hall. Shamir in particular was eyeing them suspiciously, and started over towards them. Byleth hissed at Catherine in a low voice. “Look, I know what the church teaches about crests, but if you don’t get one removed, they will _kill you_. I… Damn. Decide what you want her to know, we’re out of time.”

Shamir came to a stop next to Catherine, glaring at Byleth. She crossed her arms. “Care to explain what that outburst was about, Professor?” Byleth mirrored Shamir’s pose. “That isn’t mine to say.” Looking back at Catherine, she softened her voice. “Look… I implore you to think about this. I know for a fact Hanneman is smart enough to figure this out, but if you won’t listen to me about it… At least go talk to Rhea. Tell her what’s happened, tell her what I told you will happen. If she’s as great of a person as you believe, she’ll tell you the same thing I am.”

Catherine shook her head. “That… Lady Rhea would never say that. It’s _heresy_ to even _suggest_ that, there’s no way she would ever, ever say it! I can’t…” She trailed off, and Byleth sighed. This conversation wasn’t going to go anywhere after this. She tried to pour as much warmth into her voice as possible, and said, “Okay, Catherine. I believe that you believe that. I’m just telling you what the options are. If you aren’t willing to take them… That’s your choice. In the meantime, though, I need to go. I’ll take my leave.”

Shamir shocked Byleth by reaching out and grabbing her upper arm. “Like hell you will! Explain what’s going on here, now.” She looked at Shamir’s violet eyes, then back to Catherine’s blue ones, and sighed. “Catherine, please...” She tried to keep the desperation in her voice to a minimum, but she was almost ready to use a Divine Pulse.

Catherine’s voice was quiet when she finally responded. “It’s okay, Sham. Let her go. We… We should probably talk, anyway.” The master sniper reluctantly let go, and slowly removed her hand from Byleth’s arm. Not for the first time, Byleth flooded with guilt. “I’m sorry. I was only trying to help.” Catherine shook her head, wearily. “I know that. It’s just… It’s a lot.” She nodded. None of them spoke for a moment, but finally, Catherine sighed and broke the silence. “Look… I’ll… I’ll try talking to both of them. And… I’m sorry about your friend, whoever she was. It sounds like you cared a lot about her.” Byleth nodded. “I did. That’s why I don’t want to see it happen ever again.”

\---

The rain finally let up at Garreg Mach as the days crept by. Byleth threw herself into her students’ training, desperate to ensure that they made it through the coming battle unscathed. She saw very little of Dimitri or Catherine over the next few days, but she did see Sylvain talking with Edelgard. Evidently her mission was going well, and Sylvain even came to class with them a couple times, mainly for strategic planning. Her “recovered maps” of the interior of Conand Tower were discussed at length - the place was built to be hard to capture, and they were going to be on the back foot for the whole of their mission. 

The day before they were scheduled to depart saw another such planning session in her classroom, attended by Rodrigue, Sylvain, Edelgard, Hubert, and the knight assigned to them by Rhea, Gilbert. Byleth held very little love for Gilbert, on account of him being a deadbeat father _and_ a zealot, but she could force him to make up with his estranged family later. As she looked at the assembled faces, she decided that it was high time to address the possibility of facing a crest beast in battle.

Glancing toward Hubert, she cleared her throat. “Alright. We need to talk about something that the church doesn’t want to acknowledge, which is very likely to impact the mission. Hubert, if you would get the door, and make sure we aren’t overheard?” He nodded, and set about his tasks. Gilbert glared at her, but Rodrigue and Sylvain merely looked curious. Once the dark mage rejoined them, Byleth unsheathed the Sword of the Creator, laying it over the maps on the center of her desk. Everyone stared down at it.

“All Relics, aside from this one, possess a Crest Stone inscribed with the crest that tells what blood is required to operate it. This is basic knowledge, of course.” She repressed a chuckle as she recalled a time when she had to have this explained to her - life with Jeralt left a lot of “basic knowledge” out of the picture. “But, what happens when someone attempts to use a Relic without having a compatible crest?” All eyes were on her, and she could tell that Rodrigue was very interested.

She turned to him, and asked, “Lord Rodrigue, would you please place the Aegis Shield on the table as well?” He did so with only a little hesitation, his face lit up by the red glow of his family’s Relic activating in his hand before he set it down. “Now then. Sylvain, please touch the Aegis Shield.” He looked at her, then at Edelgard, then at Rodrigue. The latter two both nodded at him, and he swallowed hard before following her instructions.

His face scrunched up as the shield flickered. “What are you feeling, Sylvain?” He squirmed in place a little, before responding “It’s… warm. But, it doesn’t feel… I don’t know how to explain it, actually. It doesn’t feel _right_ , but I don’t know what I mean by that.” She nodded, and waved her hand for him to stop. “Relics don’t function properly without the matching crest, but as long as someone has _a_ crest, they will still attempt to activate. If Sylvain tried to use the Aegis Shield in battle, it wouldn’t perform anywhere near like it should, but it wouldn’t have any adverse effects on him. If, however, Gilbert or Hubert were to take it up…”

She breathed in deeply. “There is a high chance that a… protective measure, of sorts, would activate. Relics actively seek to protect themselves when used by someone without a crest at all. What this results in can differ, but it usually results in the creation of a demonic beast, with the person’s body and the Relic trapped inside the beastly form.”

Sylvain’s eyes went wide. “You mean Miklan could… He could become a monster?” She nodded. “That’s why you’re all here. We need to plan a way to separate him from the Lance of Ruin before he has a chance to attempt to use it in battle. Now… The easiest method is also the most obvious - remove it from his hand by force, or remove his hand from his body if he refuses to give it up. Obviously, that’s a bit… drastic. So, does anyone have any ideas?”

Rodrigue stroked his chin, deep in thought. “Well… If you’re trying not to permanently maim him, we could attempt to use a skilled archer. They would need to be able to hit his hand, and it would still likely be an invasive injury, but it could work.” Gilbert shook his head. “The only archer I know of who would be capable of that kind of marksmanship is Shamir Nevrand, and she is unavailable for this mission.” Byleth hummed, and nodded. “Bernadetta could _probably_ make that shot, but I don’t know for sure. The issue with ‘probably’ here is that a miss would likely make him shield the hand that is holding the Lance of Ruin, and make our job that much harder. Any others?”

Edelgard tapped her hand on the table, then spoke up. “What about illusion magic? When we were in Gaspard, Catherine was incapacitated by a similar spell. Perhaps that could work?” Hubert stirred, shaking his head. “I could attempt to place him in an illusory sleep, though it would be difficult if, as the Professor suspects, he waits at the top of the tower. With only one point of entry to his location, it would be difficult to hit him with the spell without being seen casting it, and if he was not distracted, he would likely have the willpower to resist it. Distracting him, meanwhile, would likely involve him attempting to use the Lance, which also defeats our purpose.”

Gilbert grumbled under his breath, before fixing Byleth with an intense look. “May I ask where this information of yours comes from, Professor? It is certainly not a part of Church teachings.” She returned his stare until he broke eye contact, then responded. “No, you may not. As someone who wields the most sacred Relic of the church, I am privy to more information than you are. Do you have an actual suggestion, or was that it?” He shook his head, evidently preferring silence to speaking and being shamed by admitting he had nothing to add.

Byleth sighed. “All right. I’ll continue to mull this over, but if nothing else comes up, I may have to go with my original plan. For now, though, I want everyone to eat well and rest up. It’s a few day’s ride to Fraldarius, and this fight will likely not be an easy one - even if all of our opponents remain human. Sylvain, Edelgard, please stay for a moment.”

Rodrigue and Gilbert left, and Hubert hovered at the door, looking questioningly at them. Byleth laughed, and shook her head. “That was for their benefit, Hubert. Stay.” He nodded, and shut the doors again before rejoining them at Byleth’s desk. She, however, only had eyes for Sylvain.

“Sylvain… I want to give you an opportunity to talk him out of this. If it doesn’t work, I’ll go with my plan. But I… I don’t want to rob you of family if I don’t have to, even if Miklan is…” She trailed off, certain he knew as well as she did what Miklan was. He nodded. “Thank you, Professor. I… I can’t say that’s a conversation I’m looking forward to, but I’ll do my best. Although he’s likely going to be executed even if we do take him in alive. Faerghus justice, and all.” He scoffed.

Edelgard got a strange look in her eye, but said nothing. After a while of silence, Byleth sighed. “Alright, you three. There’s nothing more to be gained by standing here lost in thought. Let’s go eat, and we can worry about this closer to time.” They all nodded, and filed out of the classroom.

\---

The Black Eagles, accompanied by Rodrigue, Sylvain, and Gilbert, rode north from Garreg Mach on the morning of the 29th of Verdant Wind. The journey to the manor of House Fraldarius would have taken four days, but Conand Tower was situated in the south of the territory, near the border with Galatea. It would take them just a little over two days to reach the tower, but as long as they kept up their pace, they would arrive with plenty of daylight left on the 31st.

Though the weather had cleared at Garreg Mach, things grew drearier and gloomier the further north they went. The rain found them again on the morning of the 31st, as they drew near to the tower. Byleth could actually make it out in the far distance, a massive stone structure on a hill. If the thieves were smart, they’d have already spotted them and prepared an ambush, but Byleth knew better than to expect that. Not only had Miklan’s thieves historically been colossal idiots, more often than not half of them had been out on a raid when she arrived to retrieve the Lance of Ruin. That did usually lead to Sylvain and Felix asking for assistance to mop up the remaining thieves, but it meant an easier battle in the short term. 

As they crossed the border, a messenger bearing the standard of House Dominic stopped their party, asking for Rodrigue. He took a letter from the messenger, and Byleth watched nervously as his face grew more and more grim. He sighed deeply when he finished, and spoke to her and Gilbert in a low tone. “Baron Dominic evidently received the aid of the Blue Lions this moon, to rid his territory of other bandits. Their mission went off without a hitch yesterday, but in the wee hours of the morning today, an express messenger from one of my towns to the northwest arrived at his manor, calling for aid. Evidently Miklan’s thieves have split their forces for a raid, and another one of my towns is about to be ravaged.”

Byleth sighed, and shook her head. “Go. We can handle things here - your people need you. Send for the Blue Lions with that messenger, and we’ll ride to join you once we’re done here. Gilbert, what do you want to do? I can keep the Black Eagles safe if you want to stay with Lord Rodrigue.” 

The older knight shook his head. “As much as I would like to, I have been given this task by Lady Rhea herself. I cannot abandon it.” He looked sorrowful - likely the mention of his younger brother and the Blue Lions meant that he was thinking about Annette, and his estranged wife. Byleth pushed down the desire to make a quip about him and abandonment, and nodded. “Very well then. Let’s push forward and get to the tower, double time. With any luck, we can join up with the Lions before dusk.” If either man had thoughts about her level of confidence going into the tower, they held their tongues valiantly.

\---

The closer they got to the tower, the more agitated Sylvain grew. Edelgard was watching him carefully - it wouldn’t do to have her new ally break under the pressure of their upcoming battle. If Edelgard really thought about it, she supposed she might care about him, too. He was another person like her, hurt by the cruelty of Fodlan’s reliance upon crests and the system of nobility. It was less literal in his case, but the pain in him was similar to the pain in her. She nearly laughed aloud at herself - Edelgard von Hresvelg was feeling protective over more and more people these days. Gone was her hardened emotion-denying resolve. From now on, Edelgard knew that her bonds of friendship were going to be her true strength.

She was snapped from her reverie by Byleth bringing their party to a halt. The rain was coming down harder now, and they were nearly to the tower’s doors. She brought her horse up beside Byleth and Gilbert’s, Hubert close behind her.

She looked up at the imposing stone structure, and could not help but express some wonder. “Miklan must be more skilled than your average thief to have overtaken a place like that.” Gilbert nodded. “He could not have picked a more advantageous location, either. This area was the site of a massive battle several hundred years ago. That’s when invasions from the north were at their peak. Back then, this tower was built for both surveillance and defense. It will be difficult to seize it.”

Byleth sighed, and Edelgard wondered how many previous trips to this tower were playing through her mind’s eye at this very moment. To her surprise, Hubert spoke up next. “The villages in this area are in poor condition due to Miklan’s clan of thieves. It seems unlikely that they will make it through Faergus’ bitter winter in this state.” Byleth nodded, tearing herself from her thoughts. “We’ll need to petition Rhea for aid… If these thieves were doing this just to survive, it would be one thing. Stealing food to live another day is hardly a crime. But this…” She shook her head. “These villages were destroyed for _fun_. I won’t hesitate to put barbarians like that to the sword.”

Suddenly, Sylvain’s voice entered the conversation, as he rode forward on his jet black mare. “Don’t bother losing your head over these lowlifes, Professor. It’s all wasted on them. Miklan… He needs to answer for this, and we’re going to make him.” There was a hard edge to his voice, one that Edelgard knew quite well. Byleth hummed, then looked up to the sky. “Come on, the storm is picking up. We need to get the horses in shelter and get in that tower, quickly.”

They tied down their horses outside the tower, and crept forward. There were no lookouts posted, so Byleth motioned for their melee fighters to move forward into position. Edelgard stood at her side at the great doors, counting her heartbeats. Then, Byleth hissed out “Move!”, and they swung the doors open, rushing inside with weapons and shields raised.

They met no resistance whatsoever. The entryway, and indeed the entire ground level, were deserted. Sounds came from above, distantly, and Byleth let out a breath before gathering all of them together. Edelgard was practically vibrating with excitement - she loved Byleth’s pre-battle speeches. There was something electrifying about them. It was as though she became a different person when she prepared them for battle, some kind of warrior goddess.

“Alright, listen up, everyone. The thieves are going to be concentrated on the higher levels of this tower, likely even all on the very top floor. As we go, be very mindful of what I’ve taught you about situational awareness and countering ambushes. Be cautious, and watch each others’ blind spots. Keep the chatter to a minimum as we go. Once we start the battle in earnest, keep some eyes out for reinforcements coming out of hidden passages to ambush us. Old structures like this always have little blind corners like that. Trust in each other, like I trust in you, and do your best.” She paused, looking each of them in the eye. “I will not let a single one of you fall here. Now, let’s move out!”

Edelgard hefted her axe, energized beyond belief. She fell in a short ways behind Byleth, keeping her eyes out for assailants while breathlessly replaying Byleth’s speech in her mind. How _did_ she manage to sound so authoritative? What’s more, she could effortlessly shed and take up that air of command. She knew, intellectually, that Byleth was far older and more experienced than she looked, but it was times like these where it truly struck her how wide the gap between them was. A hint of melancholy entered her chest at that thought, but she shook her head - distraction was deadly.

She felt a comforting sensation wash over her, and looked up to find Sothis smiling from atop Byleth’s head. She returned the smile, which unfortunately happened to be caught by Sylvain. She kicked herself - of course, no one else could see Sothis, so it would look like Edelgard was simply mooning after Byleth. A giggle in her mind told her that Sothis believed that was _exactly_ what she was doing, but she had no opportunity to think about it as Sylvain began to rib her.

“So… Hot for teacher, huh?” He looked far too pleased with himself, and Edelgard said nothing in response. “Believe me, I get it. She’s a vision and a half, talented at everything she does… She’s a catch.” He winked. Edelgard let out a disappointed sigh. “Sylvain. I thought there was more to you than some idiot skirt-chaser.” He held his hand over his heart and mock-swooned, before shooting back “Ah, the fairest roses hold the sharpest thorns! But, no, seriously, I am happy for you.”

She stared at him, not wanting to acknowledge what he was saying directly. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about, Sylvain. Please just focus on the mission.” The growing heat in her face betrayed her, but she would not acknowledge it. He let out a long, tired breath. “Right… The mission to kill my brother. Sure, I’ll just focus on that instead of keeping my mind off it.” For a horrified moment, Edelgard thought she’d actually hurt Sylvain, but as she turned to look at him, he was grinning at her. 

“You’re incorrigible. I see now why Ingrid acts like she does.” He laughed, softly. “Oh come on, Ingrid loves me just the way I am.” She shot him a dangerous look in response. “Is that so? Then perhaps I should take her place for a moment and address your behavior like you’re used to.” He raised his hands in surrender, and they laughed together. Edelgard felt a warmth inside her soul, one that had been building steadily for months now. She still couldn’t freely admit it to herself, but in her deepest thoughts, she whispered to the little girl trapped in the dungeons: “ _We did it, El. We’re safe. We have friends. We aren’t alone anymore._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter ends right before the action starts, but like, *come on*. I couldn't really force everyone to sit through a battle after that disgustingly sweet end to Edelgard's section. We'll see some battling in the next chapter, although things may not go the way you expect! And, we'll be seeing the Lions again soon, minus Dimitri. He's still not allowed to do missions on account of nearly having his arm chopped off. I wish I could have the Faerghus Foursome together, but the timing isn't right.
> 
> Do wanna clarify, though - Sylvain/Ingrid is not a pairing in this fic. It may read that way, but the two of them are strictly platonic. 
> 
> Eagle-eyed (heh) viewers may have spotted an interesting plot possibility about Byleth that will become relevant next chapter.


	27. Ruin and Aegis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Battle of Conand Tower takes an unusual turn, Sylvain confronts a hard truth, Edelgard has a talk with Felix, and the Eagles and Lions save a village in Fraldarius territory.

Byleth held up a hand, bringing their party to a halt. They had encountered almost no resistance on their way up the tower. On the one hand, this was welcome - no combat meant no injuries and no call for her to burn a Divine Pulse. But, on the other hand, it also meant that the whole group was starting to get nervous, and had entirely too much time in their own heads. The only break in the action was the appearance of a couple lookouts as they drew near to the final doors leading up to the top floor. They were dispatched without much noise or incident - the perks of making sure that Petra and Yuri were packing quality bows.

As they regrouped and readied themselves for the push into the final set of halls and the inner sanctum, Byleth found herself humming Sothis’ song as she walked along through her students, putting a hand on each of them as she passed. She pushed her mental attention toward Sothis, curious why this seemed to keep coming out so… instinctually. Sothis regarded the question for a moment, then shrugged. “ _I do not even recall writing the song, so I cannot tell you why you would be so drawn to it. It clearly has some kind of power in our hands, though. Just look at the little ones!_ ” Byleth turned around, only to find that her kids were all looking much brighter-eyed and alert. She smiled, despite the impending danger. “ _Let’s keep ‘em safe, Sothis._ ”

She did not, strictly speaking, _need_ to blow the doors to the top floor open with the power of the Sword of the Creator, but after enough raids on Conand Tower, Byleth had found that the psychological impact of a glowing red whip sword slicing through the thick double doors and forcing them open was almost always advantageous. As she strode forward, Edelgard on her right and Gilbert on her left, she was pleased to see she’d been right once again. Miklan’s thieves looked terrified, and for good measure, she let out a war cry.

Somewhere above them, she heard a loud, brash voice bellowing commands. Sylvain paled when he heard it, but he was enough of a warrior to at least keep his focus on the men ahead of him. He and Ferdinand, despite being on foot, dashed forward and began to flank around the heavy shields and armor of Gilbert and Edelgard, harrying the axe-wielding bruisers that were attempting to break through unsuccessfully. Their lances danced, complimenting the heavy axe strokes of their armored comrades. Bernadetta, Petra, and Yuri had posted up a short ways behind them, bows singing.

In their back lines, the Black Eagles magic corps of Hubert, Lysithea, Constance, and Hapi were focusing on long range spells while Balthus and Caspar hung back at their position to guard them. Linhardt and Dorothea were both on healing duty, but thus far they hadn’t had to do anything. Byleth shot Edelgard a concerned look as Hubert began to laugh after landing a Mire spell on an enemy armored knight, before having to shift her attention to a particularly irritating archer that was trying to hide behind a pillar a little ways into the hall. 

She shot the Sword of the Creator out and around the pillar, spearing the archer and terrifying the bandits who were running up to give him support. Their initial few waves had broken upon their forces with almost no effort, and miraculously enough no injuries. She barked out the order to advance, but tapped Gilbert, Ferdinand, and Balthus to take a vanguard position. Her placement was soon vindicated as bandits appeared out of some hidden nooks, shouting “The captain’s in trouble! Hurry up, you fools!”

The reinforcements were no match for the overwhelming power of Balthus and Caspar’s gauntlets and Gilbert’s axe, and their whole party began to slowly advance. Archers harassed them from the upper section of halls, but after a miraculously well-placed shot by Bernadetta, they abandoned the arrowslits, allowing the Black Eagles to move ahead much faster. They were, by her recollection, about halfway through the remaining halls on the northern end of the tower when more reinforcements ambushed them. This time, though, one of the bandits got a lucky strike on Gilbert, and he fell to one knee, losing blood fast from his axe arm. 

Byleth hurled a Thoron at the bandit who’d gotten him, and Linhardt ran up to Gilbert to perform emergency healing. His expression turned grim, and he called out “Sorry Professor, but he’s out of commission.” Byleth cursed under her breath, moving back through their formation.

As she reached Linhardt and the injured knight, she contemplated readying a Recover spell, but stopped herself. “Is he in danger, Lin?” The green-haired healer hummed and closed his eyes for a moment, before looking at her once more. “Not really. I’ve stopped the bleeding, but reattaching a severed tendon is something you’d need an actual physician for.” Byleth swore, and Gilbert gave a pained chuckle. “There’s no need for that kind of language. If I cannot serve as the Goddess’ sword, I can still be Her shield.” He started to get back up when Byleth and Sylvain, who had crept up to see what the damage was, both laid a hand on his shoulders.

Sylvain gave Byleth a look she interpreted to mean “ _let me handle this_ ”, and she nodded. The redhead fixed Gilbert with an angry stare. “Look here, _Gustave_ , His Highness would be very upset with me if I let you go and get yourself killed fighting my idiot brother. Not to mention you owe it to a certain _other_ Blue Lion to keep your ass alive. You aren’t allowed to die yet, you hear me? You need to go back to the bottom of the tower, or you’re going to get in our way, and people will die trying to protect you.” 

Gilbert’s expression changed rapidly - shock at hearing his old name, anger at being dressed down, and shame at the implications in Sylvain’s speech - all in the span of one sentence. He looked like he wanted to protest, but after a moment of deliberation, he merely nodded, and began the trek back to the bottom. Byleth was impressed - Sylvain certainly had a way with words when he wanted to.

With Gilbert’s cooperation secured, Byleth and Sylvain rejoined Edelgard at the front of the party. Only a handful of bandits stood between them and Miklan, and the nervous energy surrounding Sylvain began to radiate off of him. They pushed forward, quickly overwhelming the remaining resistance in the hallway, stopping just before the final set of stairs up to where Miklan, undoubtedly, stood waiting for them. Byleth, Edelgard, and Sylvain came together in a small circle.

“Well, my teacher? Have you decided on our course of action?” Edelgard’s lilac eyes were on her, expectantly awaiting some brilliant plan. Byleth had one idea that she had not voiced in their last planning session, but it was a bit simplistic, to say the least. Still, it was better, if it actually worked, than permanently maiming Miklan. She nodded, hesitantly. Lilac and bronze eyes bored holes into her as she shifted her weight and motioned for the Black Eagle mages to come over to them.

She breathed in deeply, then began her explanation. “One of the key features about Relics is that they are _almost_ indestructible. As a rule, Relic weapons can regenerate themselves from their wielder’s energy as long as the Crest Stone remains intact and undamaged. What is especially fortunate for us about the Lance of Ruin in particular is how much umbral steel went into its construction. The entire haft is metal. Who can tell me what that means in terms of combat weaknesses?”

Her eyes flickered to Dorothea, who suddenly gasped. “Thunder magic! It can conduct Thunder magic!” Byleth smiled. “Right you are, Dorothea. And it just so happens that we have several adept Thunder magic users with us. If you, Constance, and myself combine our efforts, we can fire an extra-powerful Thoron straight into the haft of the Lance of Ruin. If the impact itself doesn’t knock the Lance out of Miklan’s hand, the aftereffects of an indirect Thoron hit will.” Linhardt’s face brightened. “Muscle spasms, of course!” She smiled wider, fighting the urge to ruffle Linhardt’s unruly mop of green hair.

“Leave it to _our_ healer to become excited about muscle spasms,” Hubert drawled out. He fixed her with a pointed gaze. “This seems unnecessarily risky, not unlike the archer plan. We are aware of how far the Sword of the Creator can stretch. Why not simply strike the Lance with the Sword?” She hummed in acknowledgement, trying to think of how best to explain the gulf of power between her Sword and other Relics.

Returning Hubert’s gaze, Byleth tapped on the hilt of the Sword. “While you’re right that I could hit it from the range we’ll be moving into for Thoron, the Sword of the Creator is simply leagues apart from other Relics. In my hands, it can shatter any other Relic. And if I were to aim poorly, and strike the Crest Stone?” She paused, shuddering at the thought. “The Lance of Ruin would be rendered completely useless.” Sylvain sucked in a breath, though whether that was out of fear for his family’s Relic being made useless or out of a desire for that to happen, Byleth didn’t know.

She clapped, bringing them all to attention again. “Enough talk. We’re going to go with the Thoron plan. Constance, Dorothea, put your hands on my shoulders. I’ll need you to help me channel the Thoron spell correctly. Sylvain, come with us. I need you to be the first person Miklan sees, so that he focuses on you rather than the three of us. We need to line up a clear shot. Edelgard… As soon as the Thoron bolt goes off, you lead the rest of the Black Eagles up into the chamber. There’s probably some stragglers hanging around in there. Eliminate them.”

\---

Waving her axe, Edelgard gathered up the Eagles, sans Constance and Dorothea, and positioned them at the base of the stairs - herself, Ferdinand, Caspar, and Balthus would go in first, followed by Bernadetta, Yuri, and Petra, and then their remaining mages. Gilbert had stomped off toward the base of the tower, as Sylvain had _somehow_ ordered. She heard him refer to the older knight by a different name - what _was_ it with Kingdom expatriates taking a false name and abandoning their homeland? 

That was a thought that could wait, though, as she heard a hoarse, gravelly voice call out above her “Why have you come here, you crest-bearing _fool_?!” The small hairs on her arms and neck stood on end as electricity filled the air - Byleth’s super-charged Thoron had gone off, and by the collection of gasps and curses from inside the room, there was definitely still some resistance to mop up. With a war cry, she and the Eagles charged forward up the stairs...

...only to find that things were not as they had expected. A handful of bandits waited for them aside from Miklan, who was convulsing on the ground, electricity arcing off of his plate armor, but they were all standing in front of… women and children? Edelgard’s blood began to boil, until she realized with dawning horror that the bandits weren’t using them as hostages. 

Ferdinand hissed under his breath “Families?”, and Edelgard began to feel sick. She looked around the room, scanning for threats, before she noticed two things of nearly equal concern. First, Byleth had already crossed the room and snatched up the fallen Lance of Ruin, which _glowed red_ in her hands. The implications of _that_ were staggering, but there was no time to consider them as her second concern darted forward: a noticeably pregnant woman with mousy brown hair rushed towards Miklan’s fallen form, crying out his name.

Edelgard’s eyes flickered to Sylvain, who looked pale. The realization of their situation had hit him, too. He took a step forward, then another, then dashed forward toward Miklan. Edelgard pushed herself after him, ignoring Hubert and Ferdinand’s cries of “Lady Edelgard!”. They stopped a few paces from Miklan, and the brown-haired woman knelt in front of the bandit lord, pulled out a dagger, and stared at them with resolve on her face. Sylvain stared into her eyes, before dropping his lance.

Confusion flashed across her face, before the woman squeaked out “N-n-no closer! Y-you won’t hurt Miklan!” She jerked her dagger upwards at them, and Edelgard backed away a pace. Sylvain stayed where he was, conflict evident on his face. Byleth, wielding two blazing Relics, walked over to him. Her eyes were full of concern, though she continued to scan the room for any hint of the other bandits moving to attack the now-stunned Eagles. Sothis blinked into existence, her face drawn. “ _Byleth. We cannot do this. I will not allow it_.” In a quiet voice, Byleth muttered. “I know… I’m thinking.” Sylvain misinterpreted it as being aimed at him, and nodded. 

Byleth let out a long, deep sigh. She raised her voice, loud and bold as ever. “Eagles! Keep your weapons ready, but don’t harm any of them. Miklan’s… forces. So long as you don’t do anything stupid, we aren’t going to attack any further. The situation here is…” She shook her head, forlornly. “Stand down, and none of you will be harmed. I give you my word.” Turning to Linhardt, she jerked her head towards Miklan. The green-haired mage nodded, darting forward. When he reached Miklan and the woman protecting him, he dropped to one knee, and spoke to her. 

“Hello. I’m Linhardt. I’m a healer. May I please take a look at Miklan? I swear I won’t try to hurt him, but taking a hit from Thoron like that, even indirectly, means that he needs medical attention.” She stared up at him, opening and closing her mouth unsuccessfully. He sighed. “Look, if it makes you feel better, you can keep your dagger pointed straight at me while I work. I promise I won’t hurt him, okay?” After what seemed like an eternity of deliberation, the woman nodded, shifted to the side, and sheathed her dagger. Linhardt scooted forward, kneeling at Miklan’s side. Soon, the white glow of healing magic shone out from his hands.

One by one, the bandits laid down their weapons - evidently the woman protecting Miklan commanded some respect in their group. Byleth sheathed the Sword of the Creator, and looked the woman in the eye. “Can you tell me your name?” The poor thing jumped, evidently not expecting to be addressed, but slowly nodded. “I… I-I’m Elena. You aren’t going to… to kill Miklan, are you?” Byleth managed a weak smile. “I don’t want to, no. We came here hoping to find a way to talk him down.”

Sylvain finally found his voice, and addressed Elena shakily. “He… is he… do you…” He huffed, and shook his head vigorously. “Sorry. Is Miklan your… husband?” She nodded, eyeing him warily. Sylvain let out a quiet “Oh”, and rubbed his forehead. “I… I guess you probably know who I am, then.” She nodded again, a flash of anger on her face. “You’re his brother.”

They were interrupted by groaning as Miklan began to stir under Linhardt’s ministrations. He started to try to push himself up, but Linhardt tutted at him. “Not so fast. You’re in no shape to move. Lie back.” Miklan muttered under his breath, but Edelgard couldn’t catch what he said. He opened his eyes, looking around at the strange scene in front of him. His eyes rested on Sylvain, who he snarled at briefly, then onto Byleth, who still held the activated Lance of Ruin. Confusion and fear flashed over his scarred face.

“What… Who the fuck are you? How can you use that thing?”

Byleth regarded him for a moment, and Edelgard scrambled to try to think of some way she could help explain the situation without giving away Byleth’s identity as the bearer of So--

“I’m the living vessel of the Goddess, Sothis. I can use all Relics.”

Edelgard slapped her hand to her forehead.

\---

“ _What are you_ doing _, Byleth?! That is not information that you can simply offer up like this!_ ” Time lurched to a halt, and Sothis stood before her, hands on her hips. 

Byleth muttered a half-hearted apology, but shook her head as soon as it was out of her mouth. “Actually, no. I… I’m not sorry. It’ll be fine. More importantly--”

“ _More important than Seiros finding out that you are in communication with me?_ ”

“--the Lance of Ruin is crying.” She held it gingerly in frozen time, a look of melancholy on her face. “You hear it too, don’t you?” Sothis stilled, then sighed. “ _I do. It… Agen… His name was Agen, once._ ” 

The two of them stood silent, mourning the former life of the Lance of Ruin. Then, Byleth took a deep breath. “So what now? Are you going to force us back, or let this play out?” Sothis scoffed. “ _You seem so confident, but I simply cannot allow it to stand. You are staking this entire timeline on one impulsive statement - are you truly ready to face that? I know how much you care for your brother, but there is no guarantee that turning back to the beginning again will preserve his existence.._.” 

Byleth sighed. “Fine… I suppose I should think of something a little more tactful. Do what you will.” Time wound backwards, and Byleth emerged from it still holding onto the Lance of Ruin. She stared Miklan in the face.

“What… Who the fuck are you? How can you use that thing?”

“My name is Byleth. I wield the Sword of the Creator, and it seems that the Goddess has allowed me some level of control over other Relics as well. I’m as surprised as you are. Anyway, I was sent after you because of this” - she shook the Lance - “by the archbishop herself. But… I wanted to at least give you a chance to come out of this alive, even before seeing…”

She looked around at the scared faces of women and children who were now clinging onto Miklan’s bandits. “Just what is going on here, Miklan?”

Miklan sighed. “Ever since I got thrown out, I’ve been travelling Faerghus finding people who hate the way things are. We were bandits, sure, but there are a lot of desperate people out here that needed someone to keep them on track, look out for them. Some of them brought their families, and… Well, we changed. With families to think about, we had to.”

Sylvain scoffed. “We _saw_ those villages you burned to the ground, Miklan. Stop lying!” Miklan fixed him with a look of pure loathing. “Shut up, you fool! You don’t know a damn thing about me! The ones who did that are dead, or left us, no thanks to fa-- to any of the Kingdom lords.” Sylvain’s eyes widened in shock, but he quickly locked it back behind anger. “Even _if_ I believed you, which I don’t, why the hell did you steal the Lance?! If you were really trying to protect these people you’d have nothing to do with it! You had to know what would happen!”

To everyone’s surprise, Miklan actually broke eye contact with Sylvain. “I was an idiot, that’s why. We had the opportunity, and all I could think of was getting revenge. Now you’re here to ruin my life again…” A desperate look overtook his features, and Miklan turned to Byleth. “Look… I don’t know who the fuck you actually are. Maybe you’re crazy. But you seem to be in charge. I… You can do whatever you want with me, but you’ve got to let Elena and the rest of them go!”

Silence reigned. 

Finally, Byleth broke it. “I don’t know if I can do that. Even if I let them go, the Kingdom lords are going to want blood. It might be out of my hands. And as much as I’d like to just let them run away, I have a sneaking suspicion that they wouldn’t leave you behind.” She turned, now, to look Edelgard in the eye. Her house leader had been notably silent this whole time, but upon making eye contact with Byleth, her expression filled with fire. Byleth smiled - she _knew_ Edelgard had an angle to play.

She stepped forward, finally putting her axe away. “Miklan. My name is Edelgard von Hresvelg. I am the heir to the Adrestian Empire… And when I take my father’s throne, I am going to work towards a deeply-held dream. I want to create a world free of the influences of crests, in which a person’s character and merit are what control their fate. I would see the crest system torn down and left to burn.” 

“I know that you have suffered because of crests, and the Faerghus nobility’s reliance on them. I think I can offer you another option. If you agree to join the Adrestian Empire, to work under me to make this dream become a reality, then I will shield you from the wrath of the Kingdom.” Her voice grew firmer. “I want to be clear, though - barbarous acts like banditry have no place in the world I want to create. If you accept my aid, you _will_ work for the good of all as an honest man. The same goes for those with you.”

Sylvain scoffed. “Edelgard, you can’t be serious! You’d take _him_?!” She looked at Sylvain, and her expression softened. “I know that this is hard to hear. But could you really condemn innocents to the Kingdom’s ‘justice’? You know the fate that awaits them if we do nothing. I know that you’re a better man than that.” He stepped away from her like he’d been burned, and sighed exasperatedly. “I… Fuck, Edelgard. I know I said I would do anything for your dream, but… I didn’t expect you to collect on it this quickly.”

A look of shock crossed Miklan’s face. “What?! Why the fuck do _you_ care about getting rid of crests?” Sylvain rounded on Miklan, but the initial fury that was on his face softened. “I… I know you’ve always hated me for my crest. Well, you’re not the only one. I would do _anything_ to not have been born with this thing. I hate it, for so, so many reasons, not the least of which is how it affected you. Don’t get me wrong - I think you’re a piece of shit. You threw me in a fucking well when I was eight, for the goddess’ sake! But… In Edelgard’s world, this wouldn’t happen to any other kids.”

Miklan was silent for a long time, clearly deep in thought. At last, he sighed. “Alright. You win, Princess. If you’ll protect these people… If you’d accept _me_ into your army, then I’ll serve you. Don’t expect much.” Edelgard shook her head. “On the contrary - you’ve shown yourself to be an adept leader, and no doubt if we hadn’t surprised you and separated you from the Lance, you would have proven a worthy foe, as well. I expect you to do your best. Now… Rise. We need to do something before we go.”

He looked at her quizzically, as did Elena and Sylvain. Byleth, however, smirked. She had a sneaking suspicion she knew what Edelgard was going to do.

Edelgard unlatched a handaxe from her belt, and hurled it into the stone at Miklan’s feet. He stared from the axe to her, confused. She raised her voice so that the entire chamber could hear her. “Let it be known that here, on the 31st of Verdant Rain, Imperial year 1180, Miklan of House Gautier met his death at the hands of Edelgard von Hresvelg.” Lowering her voice so that only those around them could hear, she added, “And that she welcomed Miklan of no house to the Imperial army. You’ll need a new name… But we can work on that later. For now, I want you and yours to report to Fort Merceus in Bergliez territory. Go by way of Ailell into the Alliance, then down through Daphnel territory to the Great Bridge of Myrddin in Gloucester. General Bergliez will accept your forces once you arrive, per this order.” She pulled a sealed envelope out of a satchel she had on over her armor. 

He accepted the letter wordlessly, staring down at it for a moment. Then, he bowed in the formal Faerghan style. “I won’t let you down, Princess. I want to see your world.”

\---

After handing the Lance of Ruin to Sylvain, Byleth swept off ahead of the group to corral Gilbert so that he would not spot Miklan leaving, which left Edelgard in the company of Miklan and Sylvain. Though the hate between them was palpable, she was confident that neither one would risk their place in helping her to change the world. In spite of the tension, she smiled. She had considered recruiting Miklan if it was possible, if he wasn't as wretched as Sylvain made him seem to be, but this outcome… It was almost enough to make her tear up. 

She shook herself, noticing that they had arrived on the second floor of the tower. Soon, they reached the ground floor. Byleth gave them the all-clear, and the Black Eagles took their leave of Miklan and the remnants of his bandit clan. She spotted several inquisitive looks from the Black Eagles, and Yuri in particular had not stopped trying to catch her eye, but she would let their questions wait until they had returned to the monastery. Gilbert rejoined them, and surprised everyone by bowing to Sylvain.

“I… I feel the need to thank you for talking sense into me. You are brash, and hot-headed, but you have the makings of a fine Margrave. I hope I live to see your rule alongside His Highness’.” Sylvain was speechless for a moment, then cracked a grin. “Yeah, well… I made her a promise, you know? I wasn’t about to let you die here.” Gilbert nodded, gravely. 

The Black Eagles got back on their horses and began a ride towards where they had agreed to meet the Blue Lions. It was late afternoon, and the rains had passed while they were in the tower. Sylvain rode at the head of their company with Byleth, clutching the Lance of Ruin tightly. As night began to fall, the head of the Lance illuminated their path fairly well, and they arrived at the outskirts of a walled village soon thereafter.

The Blue Lions came out to meet them, staring at Sylvain and the Lance in wonder. Felix and Ingrid both seemed rather subdued, but Sylvain acted as his normal, cheerful self to them, and they eventually relented. The Black Eagles set up their own tents while Byleth chatted with Ingrid about Relic maintenance, and Edelgard found herself alone for a moment. She sighed, and began to remove her armor.

“I’d leave that on, were I you.”

Edelgard turned, slowly, to find Felix leaning against a tree, an odd look in his eye. She arched her eyebrow. “I can hardly sleep in my armor, Felix. Myrmidons might have that luxury, but I do not.” He scoffed, softly. The two of them were silent for a while longer, and Edelgard got all of her armor off at last, breathing a sigh of relief. She made sure everything was in place to grab it quickly in the morning, and strapped her dagger onto her belt. Felix eyed it, inhaling sharply.

“So… It’s true. You’re the boar’s sister?” Edelgard sighed. “I am _Dimitri_ ’s sister by marriage, yes. Would it kill you to use his name?” 

“Names are for people, not beasts.”

Edelgard pulled her dagger free, extending it toward Felix to examine. He hesitated for only a moment before taking it. He turned it over several times, testing the edges and tip, running a thumb over the fading grip… A wistful look crossed his face.

“Dimitri gave that to me when we were both children. At the time, I hardly knew what it symbolized in Faerghus. I was a sheltered girl who’d received a dangerous gift… But he told me to use this to cut a path to the future I wished for. To never give in… And I have lived by that. It was the fire that burned in my heart during the darkest time of my life, and it drives me to this day.”

He hummed in acknowledgement, handing the dagger back to her gently. “That… sounds like how he used to be. In a way, I suppose you were among the last to hear him speak like that.”

Edelgard sighed. “Duscur really changed him, didn’t it?” Felix was silent for a while, watching the stars. Then, he spoke, a hard edge in his voice. “Duscur took the entire royal family from Faerghus. The boar might have survived in his place, but the Dimitri I once knew is dead. He’s a talented actor these days - walking about on two legs, speaking properly… But don’t let it fool you. His heart is black.”

Edelgard shook her head. “I disagree. I’ve seen his heart. It’s battered and scarred, but it still beats with compassion, even now.” The raven-haired swordsman scoffed. “You can’t tell me that what I’ve seen didn’t happen. You weren’t there. He’s a raging beast on the inside, and one day it’ll break free.”

Felix stopped speaking, but didn’t leave. Edelgard sighed - he clearly wanted to ask about the battle today, but for some reason he wasn’t. 

“Sylvain is doing fine, you know.”

He turned his head to look at her, his eyes searching. He scoffed again. “Of course he is. He can’t die yet.” He was silent for a moment longer, before asking, in a smaller voice, “So… what happened?”

Edelgard smiled. “I don’t want to tell you what happened with Miklan if he hasn’t yet. But suffice it to say, Miklan will no longer threaten the people of Faerghus, and the last of the bandits formerly associated with him will fall by our blades tomorrow.” Felix studied her face, before his eyes widened. “That idiot let him go, didn’t he?!” 

“Geez, Fe, my ears were burning, but I didn’t think you’d be talking about me to foreign royalty.” 

Sylvain strolled over, a cocky grin on his face. Felix rounded on him. “What the hell were you thinking, Gautier?” The redhead’s smile faltered a little, and he sighed. “I figured out that he had… turned over a new leaf. Didn’t feel right to gut him in front of his-- er, well… In any event, he’s not Faerghus’ problem anymore.”

Felix’s voice was little more than a hiss. “And that means _what_ exactly? Have you forgotten about--” Sylvain cut him off, angrily. “No, Felix, I _haven’t_. Believe me. But he’s doing something important now, and my personal feelings about him don’t matter anymore.” He sighed. “If you want to know more about it, ask her. I’m gonna… I need some time to myself.” He stalked off into the night, as Felix called out “Sylvain!” to no avail.

Edelgard waited in silence for Felix to ask her what she knew he wanted to know. Finally, he turned to her. “So… What did he mean?” She cleared her throat. “To tell you that properly, I need to tell you about the dark time that I mentioned earlier. It’s not a pleasant story, but… You’ll understand after I finish.”

“When I was a child, my siblings and I were imprisoned, the subjects of horrific experiments, with the intended goal of enhancing my crest power. Every one of them died in agony, alongside countless innocents… I still bear the scars to this day. As a result of this treatment, as you might imagine… I detest crests. In particular, I hate the systems that prop them up. Crests enable the corrupt nobles who oversaw my mutilation, who use their children as breeding stock across all of Fodlan, who would do _anything_ if it meant holding onto their ill-gotten power...”

She took a deep breath, ready to lay everything out. “Crests empower people to commit atrocities great and small, and in Faerghus it has created a perverse worship of death. Once I take over my father’s throne, I will cast down the system of crests. No longer will people be condemned or raised up for the uncontrollable factors of their birth. Instead, character and merit will determine the makeup of society. No longer will innocent children suffer for their crests or lack thereof.” 

Her voice was sonorous, and the fire in her eyes _had_ to be getting through to Felix, surely. “Sylvain pledged himself to my cause before we left Garreg Mach, and that was put to the test today… Because I offered Miklan the same thing.”

Felix inhaled sharply. “So… Sylvain spared his brother… For your dream?” Edelgard shook her head. “No. It’s _our_ dream. Others have come alongside me, pledged to join me… Sylvain is no different. As for Miklan… His situation was complicated, but he has undeniable leadership ability. I recruited him to the cause, and Sylvain agreed to spare him. That those two are on the same side should show you the strength of their belief in this crestless society we will bring about.”

Felix was silent for several minutes. Edelgard watched the stars while she waited… Had she perhaps pushed too hard, too fast? She ran over what she knew about Felix in her mind: he respects strength, hates knighthood and nobility, cares about Sylvain… No. She had to trust that the strength of her conviction would speak to him.

Finally, he spoke. “It seems like a fool’s errand… But I cannot deny the appeal of that kind of society. What of noble houses?”

Edelgard smiled. “Irrelevant. Nobles and commoners will be as equals.” 

“You’re mad.” 

“Perhaps. But I intend to bring this change to the world either way.”

Felix sighed, and turned to leave. "I think I'd like to see this world of yours, I have to admit. But more importantly, if that idiot gets himself killed fighting for you, and I’m not there, I’d have to kill him myself… So for the time being, at least, count me in. I have more questions to ask, but they can wait for another day.”

\---

Byleth woke at dawn. The camp was already abuzz with activity, and she rose to find Hanneman chatting with Lysithea. An idea struck her, and she went over to them. “Say… Lysithea. Could I borrow Professor Hanneman for a moment?”

The white-haired sorceress smiled. “Well, I suppose, but don’t keep him too long! We were having a nice conversation about sweets.” Byleth returned her smile, and gestured for Hanneman to come with her.

A short way away from camp, she cast Hubert’s modified Muffling spell. Hanneman watched her with interest as she worked, but said nothing until she turned around. “I trust that this spell of yours is safe, Professor?” She nodded. “My student, Hubert von Vestra, developed it in coordination with Dean Bereth. I trust the two of them.”

Hanneman chuckled. “Oh my, well, that _is_ quite the recommendation! I shall have to learn more about it later. For now, though… I assume you wished to plan for the battle?”

Byleth balked, and Sothis giggled in her mind. “Er… No. Actually, I wanted to ask you… Has Catherine spoken to you recently?” Hanneman’s demeanor instantly became more guarded, and the smile faded from his face. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about, Professor.”

Byleth shook her head. “No, it’s not… I was the one who helped her discover it. I just… I wanted to make sure that she’d been talking to you. I worry she doesn’t grasp how serious it is.”

Hanneman shook his head. “I cannot disclose what we have spoken about, but… Your concern is obvious. I will at least tell you that your fears are not unfounded. I must leave it at that, though. You understand, I trust?” Byleth nodded. “I do. Thank you for saying as much as you did. I can't say it makes me happy, but... Either way. Thank you.”

He nodded in return, then headed back to the fire, and Lysithea. 

\---

A few hours later, the combined might of the Black Eagles and Blue Lions marched into the village. The sound of combat reached their ears as soon as they passed the walls, and Byleth led Sylvain and Ferdinand in a cavalry charge. Ingrid swooped in behind them, Luin’s red glow matching the Lance of Ruin and the Sword of the Creator. 

They broke a bandit position at the gates of the village, and Byleth gave out her marching orders. The Blue Lions and Hanneman were going to head north, clearing out bandits from west to east, while the Black Eagles, led by Edelgard, did the same in the southern half of the village. Byleth and Felix were going to rush to the center of town - some of the defenders reported that Rodrigue had been sighted there, protecting a group of civilians that he was trying to evacuate. Byleth noticed with a start that Annette was hefting the magical hammer, Crusher, five years earlier than she'd ever gotten it before. At this point, the Blue Lions had nearly all of their personal Relics in hand... She shook herself from her thoughts, and gave the order to charge. The students swept through the village like a tidal wave.

Byleth and Felix found Rodrigue struggling - his men were battered, but the civilians were thankfully unharmed. He himself was bleeding from several wounds on his arms and legs, and looked haggard. Rodrigue spotted them, shouting “Felix, Professor! You’ve finally brought reinforcements! Come, help us here.” Turning to the civilians, he cried out “Everything will be well, good people of this hamlet! I urge you, escape while you can! The students from Garreg Mach are even now securing an escape for you!”

Felix scoffed. “Struggling to defeat _bandits_ , old man? How pathetic.” Turning to Byleth he jerked his head past Rodrigue toward another group of Fraldarius soldiers. “Come on, some villagers are trapped over there. Let’s get them out of here.” They dashed forward, swords dancing. Byleth noticed, in between cleaving one bandit in half and moving onto the next one, that Felix bore a strange expression. Still, battle was no time to talk about feelings.

The combined might of Rodrigue’s forces, the Blue Lions, and Black Eagles quickly overwhelmed the bandits numbers, and by the time midday arrived, the fighting had ended. All the villagers they had seen had made it to safety, and best of all, neither class had taken any casualties. Byleth could not have made a better outcome if she’d tried.

Rodrigue rode up towards the group of students, finding her and Felix on the edge of the group with Edelgard, Sylvain, and Ingrid. He caught her attention, then said, “I’m very grateful for your help, Professor. You all have helped to keep this village, and her people, safe. It was quite important to King Lambert, so protecting it means a lot to me as well…” Felix scoffed. “How foolish.”

Rodrigue arched an eyebrow. “Pardon, Felix?” 

“We were protecting _people_ , not your ego. I don’t give a damn as to whether you can bring yourself to face a dead king.” Sylvain and Ingrid went ashen-faced, and tried to be as still as possible. Rodrigue was incensed. “I will not tolerate such language from you, Felix!”

Felix rolled his eyes. “I came here to hone my blade, and to save innocent people. I suppose if _I_ had died, you would say the same thing you did after Glenn’s death. ‘He died like a _true knight_ ’. Ugh. I have nothing more to say to you. I’m going back to camp.”

Byleth shot a look at Sylvain and Ingrid, and they nodded, taking off after the raven-haired myrmidon.

Rodrigue sighed. “I… I’m sorry you had to see that. Felix has been that way for four years now. Of course, I understand his sentiment, to some extent. It all comes down to a difference of opinion, I suppose.”

Byleth cocked an eyebrow. “That’s a bit harsh for a difference of opinion.” Rodrigue chuckled weakly, and nodded. “Well… To tell you the truth about it… I lost a son in the Tragedy of Duscur. Felix’s older brother, Glenn. To this _day_ , I’m proud of Glenn. He gave his life to protect Prince Dimitri. If he had abandoned His Highness and fled, I don’t know that I could have forgiven him… I would have been deeply ashamed.”

“But no one would have been more ashamed than Glenn himself. It was in his nature to be noble and true. As a knight serving the royal family, his duty was to be loyal to the end, even if it meant his life. If he had abandoned that duty and survived the incident, there’s no way he could have lived on in peace. Felix can’t understand that. He’s young and foolish.”

“If I may, Lord Rodrigue?” Edelgard’s hands were balled into fists, but she kept her voice remarkably level. He looked at her curiously. “Of course, Princess Edelgard. Please, speak your mind.”

She nodded. “With all due respect, you completely misunderstand Felix’s perspective. Felix understands duty and strength more acutely than many I know. He simply has a different hierarchy to which he devotes himself. Felix is deeply loyal to his friends, to those he loves. He would lay down his life a hundred times over for Sylvain, or Ingrid, or any of the Blue Lions. I suspect he would even lay his life down for Prince Dimitri, though he would likely complain about it a little.” She smirked.

“The difference is that where your older son was dedicated to Faerghus’ chivalric ideals, Felix has found alternative dedication to fuel his strength.”

Rodrigue looked pensive. “He fights for his friends, eh? Then… Perhaps I have been in the wrong…” He sighed, then looked Edelgard in the eye. “Thank you for your words, Princess. How fortunate Felix is to have met someone like you. There’s nothing quite as heartening as having people who truly understand you…”

He chuckled to himself. “He’s always been an odd boy. Thick-headed and stubborn, though I suppose he gets it honestly. I’m glad that he has friends like you to look after him. But, if you’ll excuse me, I need to speak to him again, before he slips away. Good day, Princess, Professor.” He gripped onto the Aegis Shield, which was strapped to his arm, and pulled it free, then spurred his horse forward, out of the town.

Edelgard let out an exasperated sigh as soon as he was out of earshot. “Goddess, what an irritating man! No wonder Felix is so prickly… I didn’t think insufferable nobility could really be all that different between the Empire and other countries, but if this is what Faerghus’ nobility is like... “ She shook her head, but grinned up at Byleth. “We’ve got to rescue Dimitri from this as soon as we can.” Byleth laughed. 

“We will, El.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Weeeeeehhhhhhhh - too much battle in one chapter. I don't mind cutting fight scenes for paralogues - they're pretty straightforward in Three Houses, and with Felix's especially we're only there for the delicious drama.
> 
> Felix, for what it's worth, isn't quite convinced yet. He's not going to let Sylvain wander off by himself, but he hasn't bought into Edelgard's ideals fully. 
> 
> I changed Miklan a little bit, because this Edelgard wouldn't recruit a horrible monster. Plus, I mean... Miklan has a family of his own now. This is his chance at redemption.
> 
> Etymology note: the name I gave to the dragon whose Crest Stone powers the Lance of Ruin, Agen, is from Welsh, and it means (among other, similar things) "fissure". Since the Crest of Gautier corresponds to the Fissure Dragon Sign in new game plus crest items, it seemed fitting. 
> 
> I am *extremely* hype for events that are coming up soon. It might even be as soon as two chapters away where we get into some Weird Shit, and it's only going to go more off-script from there. I don't want to definitively say that that's how soon it'll be, but if I can keep myself on track, that's a good estimate.


	28. Promises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth hosts an impromptu meeting with the Blue Lions' Relic-wielders, Edelgard confronts Felix (and herself), Claude acts even weirder than usual, Sylvain makes good on a promise, and Bereth has a revelation.

The Black Eagles and Blue Lions made it back to Garreg Mach without further incident on the 3rd of Horsebow Moon. The students were roundly exhausted - despite their victories in battle, and the fact that their efforts had culled a decent chunk of the bandit population of Faerghus, they were all still so young… None of them were used to pushing themselves this hard, or fighting this much back-to-back. The Blue Lions, at least, had three new Relics to show for their efforts. It was all that Ferdinand, Caspar, or Linhardt would talk of on the ride back, and Sylvain, Felix, Annette, and Ingrid endured their over-eager pestering with as much grace as Byleth had figured each one would - a little, none, quite a bit, and as much as could be expected, respectively.

Sothis had been quiet on the ride back, only really speaking to answer the question burning in Byleth’s mind. “ _They were Agen, Celtchar, Diarmuid, and Ailbe. Diarmuid is within the Aegis Shield, Celtchar within Luin, and Ailbe within Crusher. I… do not wish to speak more about it now._ ” Byleth had respected her wishes, even while feeling Sothis’ melancholy travel back across their shared link. She eyed the Relics the Blue Lions were carrying warily. None of them had any inkling that they held the remains of Nabateans in their hands, and Byleth could not be the one to tell them… Even so, her heart broke for the children who had once walked Fodlan, only to end up in this state.

Edelgard watched Byleth carefully, as well, stealing glances when she thought Byleth was unaware or lost in thought. Byleth didn’t _think_ Edelgard could hear what took place in frozen time when Sothis was not directly with her, but something about her demeanor was off. She would need to check, at the very least. She already knew that Edelgard could be trusted to keep the true nature of the Relics a secret, but it was one thing to know abstractly that a Relic was made from bones and tendons, and another entirely to know that some shred of that person’s soul was still trapped inside.

As the students arrived at the stables, Byleth called the Blue Lions’ Relic-wielders to her. They all looked exhausted, but curious. She took them to the Black Eagles classroom, then shut and locked the door, casting Muffling to ensure they were not disturbed.

“What’s this about, Professor? You’re looking kinda scary…” Annette’s normally cheerful face was full of concern, though the effect was somewhat comical when she was leaning on a gigantic hammer the same size as her body. Byleth pushed it aside, focusing on what she needed to impart immediately.

“Each of you now bears a Relic. I want to impart on you the seriousness of that.” Her voice was even, but the look on her face told them that this was not a lecture they could get out of. Even so, Felix scoffed softly. “I did not”, she continued, “drag you here for a lesson on chivalry or ‘noble comport’. Instead, I want you to better understand what you hold in your hands.”

All eyes were on her, now. “Your Relics all bear a Crest Stone. This locks their use to you, and those who bear the same crests as you. You must _never_ let someone without your crest wield them, otherwise a defense mechanism can trigger that will consume the person trying to use it improperly. Though, as Sylvain and I recently learned, that seems not to apply to someone who wields the Crest of Flames.” 

An idea formed in her mind, and she quickly gave it voice. “Can I… Could I touch each of them?” The Blue Lions exchanged looks and shrugs, and soon all four laid their Relics aside, dormant and cold. Byleth breathed deeply, feeling Sothis stir within her to watch. She laid a hand on each one in turn, whispering its true name. Each Relic blazed to life under her fingers, crying out to the flames within her before being stilled as she removed her hand. Her task complete, Byleth found tears welling up in her eyes, but she forced them down with sheer willpower and a feeling of gratitude from Sothis.

Having recovered a little, Byleth continued to speak as though nothing had happened. “Relics are precious items that can almost single-handedly turn the tide of battle. At the same time, you have to be aware of the toll that they can take on your body if you over-use them. Relics drain energy from their wielders - it’s part of how they self-repair. Normal use in battle leads to little noticeable effect, but overuse…”

She paused, considering how much to say. “Legends speak of an additional member of Fodlan’s Elites. His name is Maurice, and he is known, by the few historians who even know of his tale at all, as the Erased Hero. His Relic was the fell sword, Blutgang. He was a swordsman without peer, and used his Relic far more often and far more roughly than any of the other Elites. One day, the Relic’s defense mechanism triggered despite his matching crest, and Blutgang swallowed him whole, turning him into a demonic beast. He wanders the mountainous northern forests of the Alliance to this day, scarred and vicious.”

Annette looked terrified, and Felix scowled, no doubt drawing comparisons between himself and Maurice. Ingrid’s face was a mask, and Sylvain looked grim. Byleth sighed. “Please, treat your Relics with compassion. They… They are not to be used lightly, but because of the times that we live in, you _must_ learn to use them. I only ask that you keep this in mind as you do. That is all.”

\---

Edelgard waited outside the classroom, impatient. Byleth had locked and Muffled the door, so there was no way for her to tell what was being said in there, but the look on her face had been so _cold_. Edelgard desperately wanted to ask her about the Lance of Ruin ever since their confrontation with Miklan. Something had clearly happened to her teacher when she rolled time backwards, but she had been unable to hear it.

At some point, Dimitri found her. He must have heard that Byleth spirited his friends away without a word of explanation, judging from the worry on his face. He mumbled a greeting to her, and she nodded in reply. The two of them fell into an uneasy silence, though Edelgard preferred not speaking right now.

She jumped backwards as Byleth flung the doors open, sweeping out of the classroom with a sad look on her face. Sothis’ presence was near, but very muted. Edelgard started to ask if she was alright, but Byleth cut her off by shaking her head. “I’m sorry, El, I need to go debrief with Lady Rhea. Please… Whatever you have to ask me, can it wait until tomorrow? I need some time alone afterwards.” She nodded, and Byleth caught sight of Dimitri. “Ah… Sorry, Dimitri. I imagine you want to speak with your friends? I won’t keep them any longer.” She gave him a slight bow, and headed off towards the audience chamber.

She and Dimitri exchanged confused looks, but went together into the classroom. All four of the Relic-wielders had thoughtful and concerned looks on their faces, and Edelgard realized from the way they were all touching their Relics that Byleth must have spoken to them about their new weapons. Edelgard looked at Dimitri, an idea forming in her head. “Say, Dimitri… Could I borrow Felix for a moment? I’m sure you want to talk to all of them about their missions, but since Felix’s came last, surely there’s no harm in it?”

Dimitri looked at her in confusion, but nodded. “I… Hadn’t heard of a _third_ mission, but that is fine with me. Er… I suppose you can use our classroom, since we are using yours.” He flashed her an apologetic smile, which she returned with a small smile of her own. Felix cocked his eyebrow at her, but followed her out of the room and into his own class’ homeroom. He slung the Aegis Shield on his back, and crossed his arms in front of his chest as he leaned on a desk. “Well?”

“I simply wanted to know what Byleth talked to you about. I imagine that it had to do with your Relic.” Felix sighed. “She had some contrived nonsense about treating them with ‘compassion’, as if they weren’t tools. Foolish sentimentality, if you ask me, but…” His eyes were distant, and he clearly had something on his mind. Edelgard waited for him to resume, providing only a gentle prompting noise when a minute of silence had passed.

“She told a story that could not be true, about lost history. And yet… Perhaps it’s from our talk the other night, but something in me wants to believe it.” Edelgard breathed deeply. “Something to do with crests, then?” The swordsman grunted noncommittally, before letting out a small, frustrated huff.

“Why would we even have crests and Relics if they can turn against us?”

Edelgard, lost in confusion, said nothing. Felix clicked his tongue in exasperation. “She told us the story of some lost Elite, who overused his Relic and was… consumed by it. We have no legends like that in Faerghus, but the way she said it…” Edelgard chuckled, earning a glare from Felix. “Byleth has a way of speaking that convinces you to believe her. Personally, though, it’s… Well, I have heard similar tales. I believe them.” 

Thales, of course, was the source of her knowledge. She knew of the Wandering Beast, though it was more from his lamenting that they could not recover the sword Blutgang for use in repurposing its Crest Stone. The Crest of Maurice had been all but wiped out, so there was no need to keep it around any longer in his eyes. But she could not tell Felix that, not unless Byleth said so… Still, Felix had questions that she _could_ answer.

“Your thoughts turn to the Aegis Shield, then? You wonder if your own crest will betray you in a literal sense, rather than the figurative one common in Faerghus.” His amber eyes locked onto her lilac ones in an instant, searching for something. Edelgard met his gaze unflinchingly, and he broke eye contact shortly thereafter.

She sighed. “What I’m about to tell you needs to stay between us, for now. But… Your question is on the right track.” The atmosphere in the room changed instantly as Felix, now watching her attentively, nodded in agreement with her terms. “Crests… were not given to people by the Goddess, but were instead stolen from the Goddess by arrogant, cruel men. The legends about the Ten Elites and the King of Liberation saving humanity from wicked gods? Falsehoods. They were only ever power-hungry usurpers. The church has carried on the lie out of…” The words caught in her throat. It _rankled_ her to even consider speaking them, so dedicated had Edelgard been in her hatred and condemnation of the church. But ever since Byleth had told them about Rhea’s words on the night of the Black Eagles’ battle in Abyss, she could not bring that same fire to bear…

“...out of necessity. The system of nobility seeks only to perpetuate its own power. That’s something you Faerghans know well with how your heirs are chosen, but it’s the same everywhere. If the church tried to rise against the nobility without another power allied to it, it would be crushed, and that would be” - she nearly gagged - “a harmful thing for Fodlan’s people as a whole. I have many, many issues with the church, but in this… In this, I see the necessity in their position.”

Felix hummed and tapped his arm, looking thoughtful. “So… That’s your plan, then? You’re going to take the throne of the Empire and give the church their ally?” Bile rose in Edelgard’s throat at the thought of being Rhea’s ally, but she pushed it down. Her visceral reaction to Rhea didn’t make logical sense anymore - she _was_ a controlling and manipulative immortal, but she was also locked in a prison of her own making. She was decidedly an enemy of Those Who Slither… And yet Edelgard could not bring herself to trust her, for some reason. 

Pushing down these thoughts, Edelgard steeled herself, and nodded. “There is nothing I would not do to free this world from the tyranny of crests, and those who inflicted them on us.”

Felix surprised her by letting out a small, soft laugh. “It’s funny… I never imagined I’d be talking heresy with the crown princess of the Empire with my family’s shield on my back, but… Life has a funny way of working things out.” He drew on a serious face, looking her dead in the eye. “I can’t say that I exactly buy _all_ of this, but I know conviction when I see it, and Sylvain already pledged himself… So, my sword is yours. I just hope you know what you’re doing - Faerghus especially won’t take this lying down, nor will the Alliance.”

Edelgard smiled wide, feeling buoyed. “Hang the Alliance - that’s Claude’s problem. But as for Faerghus… I actually hoped that you and Sylvain might assist me in getting Dimitri on board with this plan as well? If the new Emperor and High King are united, there isn’t a lot that could stand against us.” Felix glowered. “I’ll… consider it. Talking to the boar is usually a waste of time, but…” He huffed in frustration. “Nevermind. Talking is for Sylvain or Ingrid. I’d just fuck it up.”

She nodded. “That’s fair enough, Felix. But, speaking of Ingrid… Do you think you could help me speak to her, instead of Dimitri? The support of all three of you would doubtless give him reason to consider my position.” He sighed deeply, but muttered “Fine…” as he walked out of the room, back towards Dimitri and the other Blue Lions Relic-wielders.

\---

Byleth found herself awake without cause in the early morning the day after their return. Things were proceeding apace, as they always did, but with Sothis so withdrawn, it hardly felt like it was worth celebrating any of it. She pushed her mind towards Sothis, surprised not to find a lot of resistance there. Sothis appeared, lying next to her. She still looked quite forlorn, but it was obvious that she wanted contact and communication after isolating herself for a while. Byleth smiled at her, and stretched a little.

“Morning, Sothis.” She received a small “ _Hmm_ ” in response.

“You ready to face the day? Or did you want to go see Bereth? I know he’ll have Flayn with him…” She shrugged, still silent.

Byleth’s face fell a little, and she began searching for some topic that might stand a chance of drawing Sothis out a little. Finally, she landed on an idle curiosity she’d never mentioned before. “Hey. I’ve got a question. You know the throne in the Holy Tomb, right? Your throne?” Sothis arched an eyebrow, but otherwise did not respond.

Byleth, undeterred, pressed on. “Well, you know how it’s really big, right? And you’re… not?” Annoyance filtered in through their shared emotional link. “It occurred to me, once, while sitting in it, that you must have been _gigantic_ when you had your own body. You’d dwarf me or Edelgard, if I was right. Rhea, too.”

“ _...you think I used to be tall?_ ” 

Byleth nodded, enthusiastically. “You had to have been. The back of that throne had a strange symbol carved into it, and my head didn’t even come up to the middle of it. But there was obvious wear on the stone, probably from some head ornament of yours, at the very top of the design.”

“ _I… I wonder what that would have been like?_ ” Sothis managed a small smile, appreciative of Byleth’s efforts.

“We’ll find out someday. We’ll get your memories back, I promise.” Sothis frowned. “ _Have you forgotten about_ \--” “No. I haven’t. I just… Things have been going so well this time, I had started to hope that we wouldn’t need to merge. And we could just…”

“ _Oh, little one… We can only change fate so much. That your repeated actions always include my awakening and granting you my power each time is proof of that. Apotheosis is another. You ought not make promises you cannot keep._ ”

Byleth blinked rapidly as tears began to form in her eyes. “But Sothis… If this is the lifetime where we get everything right, why can’t you stay? Who gets to write fate, anyway? I don’t… I don’t want to live in a world without you.”

“ _Nor I you. But you must know that I will never truly be gone, even once we merge. I will always watch over you… And if this life is the final one, then know that I am proud to have shared all of those before it with you_.”

That set Byleth over the edge, and she began to weep into her pillow, shuddering. They stayed like that for a while, until Byleth cried herself out. She looked up at Sothis, and felt a small smile begin to form on her lips. “You sap… I’m glad to have shared all these lives with you, too, but you can’t do this to me when I’ve still got to teach!”

Sothis laughed, and Byleth felt at peace once more.

\---

Edelgard smoothed out her uniform, nervously. She still didn’t know what had possessed her, but after her talk with Felix, she impulsively asked Dimitri if he would like to take tea with her the following afternoon, and talk. Now, she had to face an entire day’s worth of building anxiety as her mind waged war on her. She sighed. 

Though she had no intention of speaking further of her dreams and ambitions to Dimitri, she couldn’t pretend that it was unlikely to come up. She felt so ill-prepared, but at the same time she knew Dimitri would be crushed if she cancelled, just as much as she knew that cancelling once would lead to her continually cancelling. It was almost laughable to think that a scant six months prior to this, Edelgard wouldn’t have cared about Dimitri’s feelings at all. She hadn’t known anything then, it felt like…

As she brushed her hair and continued making herself presentable for the day, her thoughts turned inward. What would the Edelgard of the Great Tree Moon think of her future self’s path? She certainly felt happier, and lighter… She had friends, not unwitting accomplices, a brother instead of a gaping void… She had Byleth, and Sothis… The tense, angry, fearful Edelgard from before the Officer’s Academy may as well be a different person entirely. The Edelgard she saw reflected in her mirror was so much healthier, so much more whole. She couldn’t fathom returning to the way she used to be… even if it meant having to swallow her anxieties and go about her day with them.

A knock on her door broke her from her thoughts. Opening it, she found Cyril, Rhea’s Almyran ward. He handed her a note, then dashed off, not even saying good morning. As she replayed the brief interaction in her head, she chuckled to herself, then set about reading the note.

“ _El,_

_Meet me at Jeralt’s office when you get this. I had to talk to Seteth bright and early, but I want to get breakfast with you before class. They’ve got sweet buns this morning!_

_Yours,_ _Byleth_ ”

She clutched the note hard as her heart started hammering. _Yours_. 

Perhaps today might not be so bad after all?

\---

Byleth and Edelgard wolfed down their breakfasts ravenously, lost in the wonderful flavors of the head chef’s sweet bun trio. Byleth was never really sure why it was called a trio - sometimes you got two buns, or even four if you were lucky - but that didn’t really matter. The food was excellent, and the company was just what she wanted to take her mind off of the rather heavy topics she’d spent the morning discussing with Sothis and Seteth.

She and Sothis, after she had coaxed her goddess friend into speaking again, had decided that they needed to at least tell Seteth what they had learned. He took it better than expected, though that wasn’t exactly a high bar to clear. He was saddened to hear his fallen brothers and sister were, yet again, in the hands of those bearing their stolen blood, and surprised and alarmed that all of the Relics responded to Byleth’s touch. Before leaving, Byleth surprised Sothis by asking how tall she had been in life. To her great amusement, they learned that she had indeed been quite tall, a little shy of two and a half meters at full height.

They had exited his office only to find Edelgard valiantly resisting Jeralt in what Byleth could only assume was some overprotective fatherly urge to interrogate the people close to her. She had shot him a severe look, but Edelgard looked more amused by the whole thing than offended or scared, so Byleth had decided to let it slide. They had chatted amiably on the way to the dining hall, and Byleth noticed that Edelgard was still carrying her note. She chuckled to herself; Sothis, not needing to keep quiet, cackled loudly, and Edelgard blushed a very fine shade of pink. The two of them ate, and began a leisurely stroll toward the classrooms while Byleth was still lost in thought.

Returning her thoughts to the present, Byleth was just about to ask Edelgard what the rest of her day looked like when she heard a small gasp, followed by a whispered “ _Byleth_ …” - Sothis had spotted something. It didn’t take her long to see what had given her such pause. The three women had stumbled onto a very disheveled-looking Claude attempting to sneak out of her line of sight. More than that, though, he had cuts on his face and hands, lots of ugly bruises, and torn clothes. Byleth ran over to him, followed closely by Edelgard.

“Claude?! What happened to you?” He sighed, and gave up his escape attempt. “Ah, well, you know me. I do so love to get in little scrapes. I’m perfectly fine, though.” He winked, flashing her a smile that she didn’t believe for a second.

She put her hands on her hips. “Claude. Be honest with me. What happened to you? You look like you’ve been attacked! Was it--” She caught herself before she named their enemy out loud carelessly, but tried to convey her meaning with her eyes. Evidently Claude got the message, because he shook his head. “Nah… Just a little, ah… Overenthusiastic partner.”

Byleth’s cheeks flushed. “O-oh. Uh… Ah. I… I see.” Reducing her to a stammering mess took talent, and Claude von Riegan had always had it. Edelgard huffed. “You look like you tried to court an angry griffon, Claude.” He tutted. “I hope you’re not insinuating anything about our newest ally. But, no, alas, no mystical beings, just a regular old human.” He fixed Byleth with a cold look. “In any event, I showed up to Manuela’s door, and she sent me home for the day. Guess that’s the perk of having her instead of you, eh, Teach?”

Her voice was small when she spoke next. “Claude… You were never like this. Are you… Are you sure you’re okay? Can I at least heal you?” She could feel Edelgard’s eyes boring a hole in her, but she didn’t dare actually meet them. Claude, meanwhile, scoffed. “Things change. So do people. And like I said, I just went to see Manuela. Obviously I don’t need healing, or she’d have done it.”

“Oh.”

He sighed. “Look… I’ll see you around, alright? I need some sleep.” Without so much as a look back, Claude left. They stood in silence for a while, until Edelgard broke it. “Do you want to talk to me about this, my teacher?”

Byleth finally turned to face her, fearing that her eyes would be full of hurt, or judgment, but she found nothing of the sort. Edelgard’s eyes were full of concern, without even a hint of malice. Byleth squirmed under her gentle gaze, and nodded, walking toward the classroom at a brisk pace. Edelgard followed suit, and they arrived to find it still deserted. She shut the door and Muffled it, then let out a long sigh.

“In my last lifetime, I was a man, and Claude and I were… involved. I didn’t mean for it to happen, exactly, but it did. I always, always leave my romantic feelings and attachments behind when I start over, so when we met again this time I obviously didn’t act like the Byleth he knew. He’s been upset with me for a lot of reasons this lifetime, but that’s probably got a lot to do with it. I don’t… I don’t understand why he’s acting like this. That’s _never_ been who Claude is… Although, I’ve neglected him and the Golden Deer almost entirely, for _months_. Perhaps he’s angry at me for that, too?”

She could tell Edelgard was trying to wrap her head around this new information, so to make things easier, she said “I actually looked more or less identical to Bereth, believe it or not.” Edelgard cocked an eyebrow and began to laugh, but it died in her throat as a look of horror bloomed on her face. “Oh… Byleth, but… With Bereth here, that must be like torture for Claude to endure. How… heartbreaking.” Byleth nodded.

She was about to say more when the classroom doors opened, and other Black Eagles streamed in. She gave Edelgard a sad final glance, and pulled a welcoming look onto her face.

\---

He steeled himself, and knocked on the infirmary door. A few moments later, Manuela appeared, slipping through and shutting the door behind her while holding her head slightly. Her expression brightened, though, as she saw him and his visitor. “Ah! Why if it isn’t Sylvain, and Annette too! I suppose you’re here to check up on the old warhorse, right?

Sylvain cracked a smile. “You read me like a book, Professor!” A little smile here, and quick bat of the eyelashes, and… Manuela giggled. “Well, my dear, you’re not all that hard to read. Oh, but, before I let you two in there… Miss Annette.” Her smile faded as she fixed Sylvain’s orange-haired mage friend with a serious look. “Gilbert is doing fine, physically, but… Well, you don’t spend as long at Garreg Mach as I have without learning some things. I don’t know what you’re expecting to happen in there, but I want you to know that I offer counseling to all students and staff at the monastery. If things don’t go as planned, or if they go wonderfully and you want to talk about it to someone who’ll listen, please, don’t hesitate to come see me. Alright?”

Annette nodded, looking solemn. Seeing her without a smile on her face or a song on her lips felt… Wrong. Sylvain scrambled to try to cheer her up, but all the things he thought of seemed so superficial. He sighed - this vulnerability shit he’d started with Edelgard was ruining him.

She heard him, though, and looked up. He threw on a quick smile, but it faded fast, and he shook his head. “Look, Annette. I promised I’d bring him back safe to you, and I’m more than happy to be here now, but…” She shook her head. “It’s okay, Sylvain. You don’t have to try to cheer me up or anything. This is gonna be hard… But I have to try, right? I mean, he’s my father!”

 _Father_. Sylvain almost sneered at the word - were their roles reversed, and Sylvain’s father was the one lying in an infirmary, he wouldn’t have set foot within two territories to see him. “ _But,_ ” he chided himself internally, “ _Annette’s fucked up family isn’t fucked up the same way as mine. I need to let her handle this_.” He forced himself to nod, not trusting himself to say anything. Manuela watched this whole display with obvious interest, but also said nothing. She gave Annette one last smile, then opened the door to usher them in.

Gustave, for Sylvain refused to call him by his new name, was sitting on the far bed, reading a prayer book and clutching at some silver icon. He hadn’t noticed them yet, which suited Sylvain just fine. He reached down and gave Annette’s shoulder a little squeeze. She smiled back up at him, then began walking, slowly, towards Gustave. Sylvain slouched against the wall by the door, feeling like an intruder but unwilling to abandon his friend in a vulnerable moment, unless she asked.

Her voice was small and hesitant when she finally spoke up. “Um… Hello, Father. I… I’ve come to check on you.” Gustave visibly stiffened, and refused to meet Annette’s eye. A little flicker of anger lit up inside Sylvain.

“Father? Um… F-Father?” Annette tried again, drawing a little closer. Still Gustave said nothing. Annette drew in a shaky breath, and tried a third time. “I, um… I was worried when I heard you were injured. I’m, uh… I’m glad to see you’re okay, though!” Gustave remained impassive, and Sylvain’s little flicker got bigger.

“Mother was so worried when she heard that you were going after M- after the Lance of Ruin, you know… She worries about you a lot. I do too. So… So…” Annette’s voice faltered, and Sylvain knew from that tone that tears weren’t far behind. He clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms almost hard enough to draw blood. “So, you really should be more careful next time, o-okay?”

Gustave sat there like he was carved from stone. Sylvain felt the anger in him blazing hotter and hotter. 

“Father… Father!”

Silence.

“Please… Please stop this. Please stop treating me like a stranger… I can’t bear it!”

More silence.

Finally, Sylvain could stomach no more. “Hey, asshole! Your daughter’s talking to you! Pay some fucking attention!”

Gustave’s eyes moved, finally, but not towards Annette. He had the _nerve_ to instead glare at Sylvain. “Oh, now he responds…” Sylvain drawled out. “I didn’t save your ass for you to come back here and ignore Annette. You either respond to her or--”

“Sylvain! Please…” Annette had turned to look at him, and like he’d guessed, there were tears running down her face. The burning heat of his anger cooled almost instantly as he locked eyes with her. He sighed, wearily. “Sorry… I know I said I wouldn’t lose my cool, but…” 

She shook her head. “It’s okay. I know you mean well… But…”

He nodded. “I know. I’ll be right outside if you need something, okay?” He glared at Gustave, who, to his surprise, sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose.

As he left the room, he heard Gustave speak for the first time. “Annette… I’m sorry. But I have lost all right to face you or your mother.” He clicked the door shut, cursing under his breath.

\---

Bereth was excited - now that all the houses had reported in from their missions for the previous moon, and that ghastly mountain of paperwork was behind him, he would finally be able to spend time working with Flayn on Sothis’ time manipulation spell. Admittedly, he simply enjoyed spending time with Flayn in general, but it was hardly enjoyable to do _paperwork_ with someone. She always had such colorful stories she’d read that she was always so eager to share with him, and Bereth honestly could not recall a time in his life when he was happier than he was these days.

But today, though, something was off. Flayn was not her usual, bubbly self. She looked and seemed exhausted, and Bereth felt a pang of guilt in his chest. Finally, in the early afternoon, he could take no more.

“Dear cousin, I haven’t been overworking you, have I?” Her head shot upwards, and she stared at him wide-eyed. “Oh! N-no! I, er, have simply been a bit overtired recently. My apologies for causing you concern.”

Bereth shook his head, but smiled in spite of himself. “No need for that. I was simply worried for you, is all. I’m glad to hear I haven’t worked you too hard. Please, tell me if you need to take a break to unwind. I know most normal people aren’t used to the kind of schedule I keep.”

Flayn giggled and nodded. “I will, Bereth. But I do not find your hours all that unusual. Truthfully, I keep rather similar ones myself.” Concern rose up in his mind, and he gave it voice. “But, Flayn! A growing young girl like yourself needs plenty of rest! Keeping the kind of schedule that I do isn’t good for you when you’re young. Ah, actually, that’s probably it! I bet you’re going through a growth spurt. When I was younger, they used to tire me out so…”

Flayn’s earlier giggle was eclipsed by full-on laughter now. She wiped at her eyes, sighing contentedly. “Ah, that was wonderful. Thank you, Bereth. But, no, I assure you, I have not yet begun to hit any growth spurts, to my chagrin.” Bereth eyed her carefully. There was a hint of defensiveness in her voice, and some forlorn longing… Had he touched a nerve?

“Er… Flayn. I apologize if I’ve said something that upsets you.”

“No, it is quite alright. I simply… Well, that is to say, I simply have that to look forward to yet. Pay it no mind, please.” She smiled, though for once it didn’t quite reach her eyes. Then, she yawned. “Oh! Please forgive me.”

Bereth shook his head. “No need, Flayn, it’s natural. But… I… Are you certain you wouldn’t rather be abed than up and about? I promise that I can get by with one day alone.” He smiled, but it was, rather unexpectedly, not reciprocated.

“I…”

Flayn looked torn, for some reason. She was silent, embroiled in a debate within herself for several minutes. Bereth’s worry grew as time passed, but eventually, Flayn brought herself out of it, sighing.

“I suppose… Bereth, can you keep a secret?” She looked at him earnestly, her big eyes shining. “Of course I can, Flayn. Whatever you say to me shall stay between us.”

Flayn fidgeted in her seat for a moment, then opened and closed her mouth. She repeated this a few more times, before she finally broke through whatever barrier was holding back her speech.

“Once, when I was very young, I was… injured. It was quite serious, and I fell into a deep sleep. When I awoke, I… So much time had passed. I could hardly recognize the world anymore, Bereth! And so… Well…” Her hands, balled into fists on her lap, began to shake.

"The truth is… I am afraid of sleeping. I am afraid that when I close my eyes, I shall fall into another very deep sleep. One from which I cannot wake up… for years upon years. Then when I finally awaken, everyone I know and love will be long gone. Vanished with the sands of time. I am sure it seems silly, but try as I might, I cannot shake this fear."

She breathed out shakily, and tears welled up in her eyes. Bereth felt his own beginning to form, and he reached out a hand hesitantly. He laid it on her shoulder as light as he could, and was shocked at how she leaned into his touch. She took in another shuddering breath, and continued.

"Ever since then, I have been afraid of falling asleep. But… my fear of sleeping is outmatched only by my fear of spending my life alone. Even if it cannot last, I want to live among my peers as one of them - as an ordinary person. So… That is why I do not wish to leave here. Being with you... “ She sighed, and brushed at her hair absent-mindedly.

Bereth, overcome with compassion for his distraught cousin, pulled Flayn into an embrace. She squeaked in surprise, but quickly settled into it. When they broke apart at last, she had a wide smile on her face, from ear to…

Ear.

Her ear.

Her ear was _pointed_. Like Sothis’ ears! He must have made a face, because Flayn’s smile vanished. She gasped, and quickly tried to cover her ear with her hair - no wonder she wore it like that, down in front of… She wore her hair the same way that Seteth did. Seteth, her brother. Was he, too…? And what did that mean for Lady Rhea?

Bereth began to hyperventilate, his thoughts a maelstrom. He was dimly aware that Flayn was calling out to him, but she sounded so far away… When had she gotten so far away from him? Seteth would be upset…

Soothing, warm magic seeped into his head, and he gasped out in shock. Flayn had her hands outstretched on either side of his head, and white light flowed from her hands into his temples. As he struggled to remember how to breathe properly, he searched Flayn’s face. She looked terrified, but she still found it within herself to heal him? What a sweet girl his cousin was… His… cousin? But if she was like Sothis…

He let out a shaky breath, and called out to Flayn. She looked at him, quivering with fear.

“Flayn… Are you… You’re related to Sothis, aren’t you? She’s mentioned her children before… Are you…? Are you one of her children?” Flayn deflated before his very eyes, but nodded. 

“To… to be precise, I am her granddaughter. Father is her direct offspring, and I his… I suppose that this means that you have put everything together, then? About all of us?”

Bereth cocked his head. “If you’re Sothis’, er, grandchild, then Seteth must be as well. And since you’re so close with Rhea, that means that she too must be a descendant of Sothis, and that stoic fellow, Ethur… But, you speak of your father as if I should know him. Er… Do I?”

Flayn stared at him for a moment or two, then sighed. “Of all the people to learn some part of the truth of our identities, how did you get the part that we work hardest to protect _first_ , and somehow completely miss Father’s identity?” She let out a quiet laugh. “Seteth is my father, not my brother. And Ethur is my uncle. Rhea, my auntie. We…”

Bereth held up a hand. “Wait, Flayn… I can tell that whatever you’re about to say is stressful. If you don’t wish to say more, I will not press you further. You can stop at any time.” She laughed again, a little louder this time.

“Oh, my. Bereth. You are such a kind person… But, no. I must tell you this last truth. Then there will be no more secrets between us! Oh, I am excited at the very thought!” Her vibrant energy was returning, more and more, by the second. She looked him in the eye, and though he saw nervousness, the fear that had been there before was gone.

“You see… My true name is not Flayn. I am not a sheltered young teenager. Er, well... I am not young, at least.” She laughed to herself. “My true name is Cethleann. I was born… hmmm… Well, a little before the War of Heroes, I suppose? My father is Cichol, not Seteth, and my uncle is Macuil, not Ethur.” She smiled, delighted to speak her true name aloud. “Then… Rhea… Is not Rhea’s true name, is it?”

Flayn shook her head. “Rhea… Would not want her name revealed so casually. If you desire the truth of it… Ask Grandmother. She has never cared for Auntie’s secrecy.” He nodded, weakly.

“But… If you were born that long ago, that would make your father’s age…” Flayn giggled. “Quite old indeed. He growled at me the last time I tried to guess, but I got him to agree that he was at least three thousand years of age!” She looked delighted with herself, but Bereth staggered backwards in his chair.

Bereth sat very still, processing all that he had learned. He had come close to learning Rhea’s true identity, but the very thought _terrified_ him. If Rhea turned out to be someone else of myth and legend, what would that mean? She had always been so kind to him, but if it was all an act… He shook himself. 

“I’m sorry, Flayn - er, sorry, Cethleann. This is all so much to take in. I… I don’t want it to change things between us, if that’s alright with you. It’s just… It’s so much.” He shook his head. Flayn surprised him by reaching out and taking his hand. “My dear Bereth… I understand that this is quite a lot, but I would not have told you if I did not think that you deserved the truth. Whether you know me as Flayn or Cethleann, I am happy to have revealed this much to you.”

Bereth thought quietly for a moment. His mind was still abuzz with the implications of what he’d been told, and he needed to get back to work _now_ before his thoughts got him in trouble. He sighed, and prepared to throw himself back into research. But before he could, an errant thought crossed his mind. “Say… Which would you prefer I use? Flayn, or Cethleann?”

The green-haired Saint before him giggled like a schoolgirl. “In public, you must call me Flayn, of course… But when it is just the two of us? I would prefer Cethleann.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man. This chapter had some heavy stuff. I didn't realize as I was writing it that I made fluff to soften the impacts, but there you go. I... don't know if I can claim that that Byleth and Sothis talk was strictly platonic tbh. I might update the tags to reflect a little Byleth/Sothis, although neither of them would admit to it. Let me know in the comments if you think I should - I strictly do not plan on making that how Byleth ends up, but I know some people tag if there's even a little of that relationship in a fic.
> 
> Adult Sothis, for the purposes of this fic, was 2.4 meters tall. For my fellow Americans, that comes out to a whopping 7'10". Biiiiiiig mommy dragon lady.
> 
> Flayn realized in this chapter that despite Bereth's brilliance, he is also a complete dumbass.
> 
> Etymology notes:  
> \- Celtchar is named for Celtchar mac Uthechar, an Irish mythological figure from the Ulster cycle, who notably wielded the lance that Three Houses' Luin takes its name from, the Lúin of Celtchar. Pretty simple.  
> \- Ailbe was a fifth century Catholic saint from Ireland. There's nothing really connecting the person to Crusher or the Dominic crest (although there is a legend about Ailbe, on a trip to Rome, feeding the entire city for three days, which sounds like something Annette would try to do). My thought process was as follows. Dominic -> Dominicans -> Catholicism -> Irish Catholicism -> Major saints from Ireland -> Ailbe of Emily. Also, fun fact, Ailbe is the patron saint of wolves, owing to a Romulus and Remus-style myth surrounding his birth and early life.


	29. Wounds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edelgard and Dimitri have a little sibling bonding, Claude hires Balthus for services unknown, Byleth and Sothis have a very strange dream, Seteth, Flayn, and the Black Eagles destroy the Western Church forces at the Rhodos Coast, and the group makes a stop at Lake Teutates.
> 
> CN: violence in battle during Seteth's POV.

It was a truly awkward teatime, Edelgard decided. She had at least had the forethought to invite Dimitri to her dorm, rather than taking tea with him in the gardens or the dining hall, but still… Having her stepbrother here just brought up unpleasant thoughts and hazy memories. Her eyes kept flickering to his left arm. It wasn’t bandaged visibly anymore, but it was still in a sling. She felt a pervasive guilt - he had been injured protecting her. He didn’t know anything _about_ the real Edelgard, but he cared enough for the Edelgard he’d once known to throw himself in front of a blade. How could _she_ compete with El?

He caught her staring several times, but didn’t say anything until the fourth time. He began with a sigh, setting his teacup down gently. “El… Please stop tormenting yourself.” Her eyebrows shot upwards, and she managed to stammer out “I-I am not… Tormenting myself? Honestly, why would you even think that.” She tried to affect an offended air, but a glance back at Dimitri’s face showed he hadn’t bought it. She deflated almost instantly, feeling very small.

“I keep thinking about how you almost _died_ for a girl who doesn’t exist anymore, and it… It bothers me, Dimitri.” His icy blue eyes widened, and he frowned. “Doesn’t exist? What are you talking about? You are here, before me. Are you feeling unwell?” Edelgard shook her head. How to explain… A thought occurred to her, but she couldn’t bring herself to broach the subject if there was any chance of having this afternoon not turn as sour as could be.

Dimitri studied her face, and she suddenly realized that she had not clamped down on her expressions. A foolish, amateur mistake, but there was no time to kick herself as he spoke again. “You look as though you are battling with dark thoughts. If you don’t wish to voice them to me, that is fine, but… If you do, I am more than willing to listen. I have a sneaking suspicion that you and I are dueling with the same darkness, as it were…” She cocked an eyebrow at him. There was nothing for it, anymore.

“You mean Duscur.” He nodded, slowly. “I have… Perhaps in a similar manner to you, the Dimitri that existed before that day is no longer here. All that is left is… me.” He flashed her a sad smile that didn’t reach his eyes. She nodded. “Perhaps we are more similar than I thought, then. Ever since my imprisonment, I have been a shell. Your El died in prison, and only Edelgard remains.” She paused. That wasn’t quite true, even as she started to say it.

Six months ago, she would have certainly said that her old self was dead, and buried for good measure. But over her time here, she had changed. She had grown. And if she was honest with herself…

“...well, perhaps that isn’t quite true anymore. It’s hard to face, but…” 

Dimitri hummed. “But you are healing.” She met his eyes, curious. That hadn’t been a question, but a statement. Something in her pushed forward, and she reached for his hand. He flinched, but didn’t draw away. “I have been. Have you?”

He shifted his gaze, fidgeting nervously. She gave his hand a small squeeze, which brought his attention back to her. “Not as much as I want. I want… I want to be fully healed, so that I can help you, and help the Professor. Our conversation before the battle in the Holy Mausoleum confirmed to me that something bigger was afoot, and… It bothers me, knowing that you chase after the shadows that haunt both of our lives while I sit in Manuela’s office speaking about my _feelings_.” He spat the final word out with surprising venom, but shrank back as soon as he said it.

“I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t complain, but it does frustrate me to no end. It is… Good, I think, to voice this, though.” Edelgard nodded. “You know, Dimitri… I used to be a very private person.” A small chuckle from the other side of the table gave her momentary pause, and she shot Dimitri a sharp look, but her smile betrayed her. “Oh, I suppose you think that’s funny? Well, it’s true. I was far more private six months ago than I am now. I have been learning, with some difficulty, to truly open myself to the people around me. I would even dare to suggest that my classmates now are… friends. Byleth and So… er. Well, Byleth led the charge on that, and she is still the person I am closest to, but I have been trying to branch out more. It…”

She looked at him seriously now, squeezing his hand tight “It would truly do you a lot of good to lean on yours. Sylvain and Felix, for example. I have spoken to them a bit over the past few weeks. They seem dependable.” She waited a beat, looking for recognition in his eyes, or a tell-tale break in his gaze. When neither came, she huffed. “I’m saying that you should try that.”

“Oh.”

Dimitri looked down, lost in thought. “I… It is hard to speak of what I have gone through to them. We are not close, like we used to be.” He breathed in deeply, and looked upwards. “I will try. That is all I can say. I hope that I will be met with the same success as you.” She smiled at him, feeling warmth blooming in her heart as he hesitantly returned it. “Good. I will hold you to that.”

\---

Claude stole through the dimly lit tunnels with skill and grace. He had never spent too much time in Abyss in his former life, especially not before the war. Yuri had been much, much more wary back then, though that was probably attributable to Byleth’s intervention. He scowled. So much of this was different, and strange, and… Now, to top everything off, he’d lied to Byleth’s face. He couldn’t stop the pang of jealousy that rose up in him whenever he saw her with Edelgard, but he’d definitely lost his cool the other day… Even if Byleth wasn’t _his_ Byleth anymore, no Byleth deserved that. Even so… She couldn’t know. And what’s more, they could absolutely not find out about the secret time travel club.

He shook his head, a faint smile playing on his lips at Hilda’s ridiculous names… Followed by a grimace. He couldn’t let her get involved in this either. Damn it all…

He finally arrived at the compound he’d been looking for, going by second-hand directions from _Hubert_ of all people. It was still hard to reconcile being that man’s ally. Although now… He sighed, and knocked on the door. A panel slid back, and he caught sight of lavender eyes for a brief moment before the door was unlatched. He slipped inside, flashing his host a small smile and a curt nod. “Yuri.”

“Claude. I’m very busy. What do you want?”

Well… Someone had a bee in their bonnet. But, Claude could worry about that some other time. Probably never. Deciding to humor the Abyssian trickster, Claude produced a hefty coin pouch, and said “I want to borrow Balthus for the foreseeable future.”

Yuri narrowed his eyes. “Why?”

Claude let out a soft chuckle. “What happened to professional courtesy, Leclerc?” Yuri scoffed, not taking his eyes off of Claude for a second. “Professional courtesy ends where my friends putting their lives in danger begins. Explain, von Riegan.”

Claude shook his head, but stopped, and sighed. Yuri wasn’t going to budge without _something_ to go on. “I need a bodyguard. Got a… business meeting, and I’d rather it didn’t go south like my last one. Balthus is _former_ Alliance, tough as they come, and knows how to keep secrets.” He put extra emphasis on “former”, trying to entice Yuri with tantalizing possibilities. 

The lord of Abyss didn’t bite on that, but he did take the gold. “He’s in the next room. You get him killed, and they won’t find your body.” He nodded, internalizing the threat. Yuri didn’t make idle threats.

A few hours later, Claude and Balthus slipped through the sleeping town at the base of the monastery. Neither man said anything, though Claude could tell that that was more out of respect for the situation that Balthus had found himself in than professional conduct. Ever since he’d first met Balthus, the man had been insatiable, trying to get Claude to spill something about his family… his mother, in particular. He _almost_ chuckled to himself, thinking about how before, during the war, Judith had been the object of Balthus’ older women fascination. Almost. 

They arrived at a nondescript house near the edge of town. Claude knocked in the specific pattern that they had established, then slipped inside, Balthus on his heels. He felt unfriendly eyes on him from the shadows, but pushed that aside, keeping his face carefully neutral. 

“Ah, there you are, little princeling. You have something for me?” Biting down curses in both Fodlani and Almyran, Claude nodded. He pulled a small scroll from his pocket, and extended it toward the figure in the shadows. After a small pause, the figure extended a scroll of their own to Claude. He took it wordlessly, then turned on his heel, walking briskly out into the night.

Balthus said nothing until they drew closer to the monastery gates. Finally, the dam burst. “So… Listen. I know it’s none of my business, but if you’re being blackmailed, I know a guy who can get you out of it. It’s not cheap, and it’s not fun, but…” Claude couldn’t help himself this time, letting out a bark of laughter, before forcing himself to quiet down.

“Thanks, but… I highly doubt your guy can help with this.” He tried to add a smile at the end, but it wasn’t coming. Probably wouldn’t have fooled Balthus anyway - for all his dumb meathead routine, he was quite a bit more cunning than he let on. Balthus hummed in thought. “Well… If that’s the case, then it’s a good thing you’ve got the Immortal King of Grappling on your side! Just say the word whenever you need me, alright boss? I won’t let anything happen to ya. That’s a Balthus guarantee!” Claude nodded, appreciative. Unbidden, his mind turned backwards, thinking of the last time someone had told him “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Damn all of this to every hell that had ever been.

\---

Byleth found herself, rather unexpectedly, standing in a field of flowers and bright green grass that blew serenely in the wind. The sun beamed down on her, warming her skin and hair. Wherever she was, it felt like peace. Sothis appeared, looking confused. She cocked her head to the side as she looked around, and one of her braids fell out of place. Byleth chuckled softly, and without thinking she went to move it back into place, forgetting that Sothis was incorporeal.

Or, at least, she had been. Byleth grasped real, physical hair, and froze in place. Sothis looked up at her in confusion. “I… Sothis? What’s going on?” She looked around, frantically, but Sothis laid a hand on Byleth’s to bring her attention back to her. Smiling, she said “Honestly, I have no idea where we are, but… This is nice. Your hands are warm.”

Byleth hummed in response, torn between having a moment with Sothis and panicking. Eventually, though, the moment won out, and she sighed. “It is pretty nice, I guess. Are we dreaming?” Sothis shrugged. “I suppose that would explain it, but I have no idea why we would be in a field instead of the Tomb.”

“Ah… That would be my doing.”

Byleth and Sothis whirled towards the unexpected voice, taking in a very unexpected sight. Standing in front of them was, undoubtedly, another manakete. The green hair and eyes would have been a giveaway even without her pointed ears poking through, but that settled it. She was easily older than Flayn, but younger than Rhea if Byleth was any sort of judge. Although… What was a manakete doing in Fodlan without covering their ears? Byleth could only think of one other manakete left in Fodlan that she had not met, but it seemed so improbable… Still, she had to ask. “Are you… Indech?”

The woman shook her head, looking a little confused. “My apologies, Lady Vessel, but I don’t know who that is.” Turning to Sothis, the woman bowed low. “Forgive me for disturbing your rest, ancient one.”

She was staring at Sothis reverently, which clearly made the little goddess uncomfortable. Byleth, suddenly feeling rather protective, pressed the mystery woman further. “Alright, well, if you’re not Indech, who are you? And why are we here… and, er, where is here?”

“I… You would not know my name, and it isn’t important right now. I brought you here because Mother asked me to summon others of her generation, though I did not expect to bring a human vessel… Ah, and, you are in the Divine Dragon Grounds, where Mother once lived…”

Byleth and Sothis exchanged mystified looks. Sothis finally spoke, her voice a little unsteady. “Your mother? What do you mean? And, her generation? I…” Sothis’ face suddenly went blank. She began to tremble, and brought her hands to her head. Byleth knelt down to be at eye level. “Sothis! Are you alright?! What’s wrong?”

“I… remember this place. It has been so very long…” 

The woman nodded, smiling warmly. “Mother has long desired to speak with her kin estranged from her, and those laid to rest elsewhere in this land. She recently realized that she could not speak to the ones here until you returned, since you left after their banishment. I… I don’t claim to know why, but Mother knows of which she speaks. Thus…”

She gestured behind her, and Byleth noticed the faint, shimmering outline of another woman. The first thing that Byleth noticed was that she was _tall_ , impossibly so. She towered over everyone Byleth had ever met, easily more than two meters in height. She was obviously a manakete as well, but she looked older than the woman who had been speaking to them. She radiated a serene grace, smiling gently downwards towards Sothis. She extended her arms, and spoke in what Byleth realized was the language of the Nabateans. Sothis’s eyes shot open, and she responded in that same tongue. Byleth couldn’t understand many of the words, but listened patiently.

They continued speaking for some time, and every now and then the shimmering woman or Sothis would say a word Byleth _had_ learned the meaning of: _flames, mother, power, love..._ Then, the conversation came to an abrupt end (to her mind, at least). The shimmering figure moved forward, kneeled down, and embraced Sothis. She returned the gesture, whispering something Byleth couldn’t understand, but it evidently made the figure laugh. Her laugh was musical, and infectious with joy. After a moment longer, the figure let Sothis go, and stood back up. She spoke to the younger woman, who bowed in response. 

“Mother extends her gratitude, Lady Vessel, for caring for Lady Sothis. She would offer you a boon, were you here in person.” Byleth shrugged. “It’s fine. I’m happy seeing Sothis happy.” The shimmering figure laughed again, and Byleth smiled. She spoke again, and the younger woman nodded.

“Nevertheless, you have the gratitude of the King. Mother said that when you come into your own, you will receive 'more than usual'. I… don’t know what that means, exactly, but I trust it makes sense to you?”

Byleth nodded quickly - it _really_ didn’t, but the sooner she could get Sothis alone to figure out what the hell was happening, the better. The younger manakete bowed to Sothis, and then to Byleth. “I shall return you to your slumber. Thank you for coming, Lady Sothis, Lady Vessel.” Before they had a chance to respond, Byleth felt a strange sensation of falling.

She woke with a start, her breath ragged. She immediately pushed her thoughts towards Sothis, only to find a mental wall. “Sothis? What was that? Are you alright?”

Sothis’ voice came from behind her mental barrier, wavering slightly. “ _I… do not know, exactly. There is much that I cannot say right now. But… I shall tell you three things. Firstly, that was… my sister. One of many, who I had not seen in uncountable years. Her name… Well, that is unimportant. You would not know her, and more importantly, we have need of haste right now. For that is the second point: Cichol is about to depart to scatter the Western Church from a shrine on the Rhodos Coast. I want to go with him."_ There was a finality to her voice that Byleth knew better than to argue with. 

_“That leads to the final thing… On our way back, we are making a detour at Lake Teutates. Once you go find Cichol, I will awaken Edelgard, and she shall gather your little ones for battle._ ” Sothis grew quiet, though Byleth could feel her urgency bleeding over into her.

Byleth laid silent for a few moments in the pre-dawn hour, processing everything. Then, a thought bubbled up in her mind. Chuckling, she pushed towards Sothis again. “If that was your sister, you must have been a hell of a beauty, back in your day. And it confirms the height thing, too!” Embarrassment and gratitude flooded their mental link, and Byleth sighed contentedly even as she got out of bed to go catch Seteth. 

\---

Seteth, riding atop Pebbles, surveyed their group. The Black Eagles had certainly grown to be a formidable force under Byleth’s tutelage… A testament to her ability, honed over countless years that he could scarcely fathom. The woman had known far, far more of war than peace, a thought that threatened to break his heart if he thought about it too long. Though he had initially rejected her request to come along with him to provide combat support, the arrival of Mother (evidenced by Cethleann’s delighted squeal), had, of course, sealed his fate.

Nervousness gnawed at his mind. After dispensing with the Western Church rebels at the coastal shrine, Mother demanded that they take a detour on the way home to see Indech. His other surviving brother was so skittish and reserved even when he actively walked the world, he could not imagine what a thousand years of isolation had done to him. Cethleann, of course, had been delighted to hear that they were going to visit both her mother’s grave and her uncle’s home, and she practically vibrated with excitement the closer they got to Rhodos.

It was their second morning out from Garreg Mach at that point, and though the Black Eagles were almost universally infantry or cavalry units, they all took to their borrowed wyverns more or less gracefully. The worst had been the Vestra boy, by far. His usually sallow face had taken on a green tint as they flew, and Seteth suspected that he held a fear of heights. He had even refrained from making vaguely murderous threats while on the ground, preferring instead to sit quietly near the Varley girl with Indech’s Crest and read. A smile played at his lips - Indech’s blood had truly borne out in that one. The two were so _similar_ , from his few interactions with her. Perhaps Indech would take to her.

He frowned as the beach came into view. Figures clad in clerical robes and white armor milled about, clustered near ruins and at his wife’s grave. Fury bubbled up within him, and he signaled for the Black Eagles to set down a short ways away from the beach. Those who were not used to combat on a wyvern dismounted, though he noticed that the young princess of Brigid remained mounted, counting her arrows. Cethleann shifted down off of Pebbles (who let out a mournful rumble at her absence), and jumped atop one of the newly-vacated wyverns. She had rarely seen him so angry… Old guilt began to gnaw at him now, before a hand reached out to touch his arm.

Byleth stood there, an unreadable look on her face. She looked between him and Cethleann, and sighed. “We’ll keep her safe, Seteth. You don’t need to replay those memories right now. Focus on the mission.” She was right, of course, but… No. There was nothing for it. He drew in a breath, and nodded. “Very well. I shall leave the forces on the coastline to you and yours. Flayn and I shall remove the desecrators from the shrine.” Sothis spoke, startling him. “ _I recommend that Cichol takes Petra and Constance as well. They can provide additional ranged support for his offensive._ ” Byleth hummed in thought, then nodded. “I can make that work. Seteth?”

He hefted a silver lance, nodding. “That will be fine. I shall do my utmost to ensure their safety.” Byleth smiled. “I know you will, mother hen.” She chuckled to herself, then went off to issue orders to the students. He rankled a little at her teasing, but there was far too much at stake to let that distract him. They crept forward, keeping the wyverns and Constance’s pegasus on the ground until a cry of alarm went up from the Western Church forces. He and Pebbles shot into the air, followed by Cethleann, Petra, and Constance on their mounts. The battle was joined.

He had to admit, Mother’s advice was sound. His small squad, while obviously not as practiced in aerial combat with him as his own, personal battalion of wyvern riders, had a tremendous amount of skill. Cethleann was in truly rare form, holding back none of her prodigious magical might. He shuddered to think of her innocence before the war, pushing it from his mind as he gored through an enemy assassin and she released a devastating Excalibur that ripped apart two swordsmen. Petra and Constance made quick work of the rest of the enemies on the small island that they had aimed for first, and after ensuring that none of them were wounded, they took flight towards the shrine. Anger rolled off him in waves the closer they got, for the Western Church was quite obviously trying to break his wards on his wife’s grave.

With a mighty war cry, he spurred Pebbles into a dive. He speared one of them, who looked to be the leader, and rose up in the air, holding the struggling man aloft at an angle that meant he was, inexorably, sliding further and further down the lance. The man spat at him. “Y-you… heretic dog! This sacred coast is ours! The Goddess will not… protect you!” Seteth leaned in close, feeling as his canine teeth and fingernails began to lengthen. “You _dared_ to desecrate my wife’s grave. There is no greater evil you could have done in this place. And now your blood will nourish it. Judgment is passed, wicked man!” With all of his might, he hurled the lance, priest and all, into the depths of the sea.

Chest heaving and breath ragged, he looked back to the battlefield. Byleth and her Black Eagles had made short work of the forces on the coastline, and Petra and Constance were flying over to join the rest of their classmates, their work evidently completed. Cethleann flew close to him, concern on her face. He breathed in deeply, forcing his draconic features back toward normalcy with sheer willpower. He looked at his daughter, and sighed deeply. “Am I presentable?” She nodded, worry still creasing her brow. “Then… Let us land. I find myself very tired, all of a sudden.”

They touched down next to the shrine. As they dismounted, Pebbles snaked her head around to sniff at him. He muttered low and softly to her in Nabatean, “ _Peace, friend. I am unharmed._ ” She snorted in disbelief, but did not press the issue. Cethleann grabbed his sleeve, tugging, and the two of them turned to see Byleth and Edelgard nearing the island. He sighed again.

“Seteth. We left no survivors on our end. How did… Seteth?” Her blue eyes scanned over his features, brow knitting. Sothis’ voice called out to him next. “ _Cichol, what happened?_ ” He shook his head. “It is nothing to be concerned over. I let my anger burn hotter than I have in a very long time.” Turning his attention to Cethleann, he added, in a soft voice, “Now… Would you please retrieve the flowers from Pebbles’ saddlebags? We need to remove our effects, as it is no longer safe to store them…” His daughter’s eyes widened in surprise, but she did not argue.

“Byleth, would you join me? I feel I ought to teach you how to undo our binding spells, if no other, prior Seteths have done so.” She nodded, matching his stride over to the monument. The tell-tale feeling of old magic still hung over the hidden compartment in the stonework, and he stiffened as it washed over him. Judging by Byleth’s reaction, she also felt something. “Our magic works on rather… esoteric principles, shall we say, but most of our binding spells are done by way of blood locks. Both my own blood and that of Cethleann would normally be required to unseal what we have hidden here, but the Crest of Flames that you bear can ignore this requirement.”

He stretched out his hand, reaching for magical energy. “Gather power in your palm, then manifest your Crest, and release it slowly into the wardstone.” He gestured with his free hand to a pure white stone set into the base of the monument. “With me, then.” She mirrored his gesture, letting out a small hiss of pain. As he suspected, the Crest of Flames was too much for a human body to bear safely, but Byleth did not shrink away. As they released the seal, a stone slab retracted, revealing his lance and Cethleann’s staff. He gathered them into his arms, beckoning to Cethleann to retrieve her staff. Turning to Byleth, he nodded toward the wardstone again.

“The trick to setting a ward is much the same as undoing it, though you must be specific in your intention this time. You release power with the intent to shield, protect, and conceal. Repeat them in your mind as you release power with your Crest manifested, and the wardstone will respond.” She looked at him in confusion. “You want me to replace the ward? Isn’t this your wife’s grave?” He nodded. “Someone possessing the correct Crests could potentially unseal this place eventually, but none besides yourself possess the Crest of Flames. It would give me such peace, to know that my wife’s rest would remain undisturbed.”

She nodded, and soon the feeling of the ancient wards returning to life confirmed that she had done as instructed. She stepped back, next to Edelgard. “Thank you, Byleth. Now then… Cethleann?”

The two of them knelt, and Cethleann laid a bouquet of white lilies on the stone before them. They were silent for a time, until Cethleann broke the silence. “You are safe now, Mother. May you rest in peace… And continue to watch over us. I love you.” Seteth bowed his head, feeling tears begin to form at the corners of his eyes. “Eithne… I have missed you for many long years. I shall miss you for many more to come. Watch over us, love.” Hot tears began to spill down onto the ground, and he felt Cethleann’s small, warm hand atop his own.

“ _It is a shame that I did not have the opportunity to meet the woman who would inspire my Cichol to tears. She must have been truly incredible_.” Sothis’ voice was at his left, and a sudden cold pressure on his hand, which must have been her efforts to mirror Cethleann, brought a smile to his face. “She was. You would have liked her. She did not abide my…” He hesitated, searching for the word. “Grumpiness?”, Cethleann offered, a mischievous gleam in her eye. He sighed, and nodded. “Yes. Eithne was so vibrant and lively… She made me feel as though the world’s colors were brighter, somehow. I have met few in all my long years who I could say the same of.” Unbidden, his thoughts began to turn - _No! Not here._ He mastered himself.

After a short silence, he and Cethleann stood. He embraced her tightly, only reluctantly letting go. Taking a deep, bracing breath, he looked at Byleth. “Well, then. That is our mission here completed. Let us move towards Lake Teutates while there is still daylight. With any luck, we can arrive and set up camp on the lakeshore before dark.” They all nodded in agreement, and soon the Black Eagles were on the move once more. They touched down at the lake at sunset, and Seteth volunteered for first watch.

\---

Sothis woke Byleth early the following morning, forcing her to ignore the aches and stiffness that normally came from sleeping out in the wilds. She moved silently through the camp, waking Edelgard and Hubert. She led the two of them a short ways away from camp, where Seteth and Flayn were waiting. Turning to Hubert, she said “Alright. We are going to go retrieve someone important. I need you to remain in the camp and keep the rest of the Eagles from wandering. With any luck, we will be back shortly.” He gave a curt bow, and made his way back to the camp.

She turned to her remaining companions now, nodding grimly. “The last time I was here, there were a host of phantom soldiers in the fog once we set foot in the temple. Be on your guard.” Sothis appeared, grinning at her. “ _That won’t be necessary. Here, let me take control for a moment_.” Seteth and Flayn looked at Byleth in shock, and she quickly tried to explain that Sothis could briefly take control of her body to perform certain actions before swapping back with no harm done. Soon, though, she found herself seated on the throne, watching as Sothis stretched languidly in her body.

“Goodness, little one, you need to take better care of your muscles! How do you even move with them this sore?” Sothis’ words in Byleth’s voice caused Seteth and Flayn to blanch, and she rolled her eyes, forgetting for a moment that they couldn’t see her anymore. “ _I don’t hear you volunteering to sleep in the dirt for me, now do I?_ ” Sothis wrinkled Byleth’s face up in disgust. “Urgh. That is absolutely not going to happen. Now then, hush. I need to concentrate.”

She was vaguely aware of Edelgard explaining that Byleth had tested this ability before their trip to Conand Tower to Seteth and Flayn as Sothis built up magical energy. She began to weave a complicated sigil in the air, pouring energy into it. Then, Sothis released it, flaring the Crest of Flames as she did. She hissed in pain, but her spell evidently worked - the fog cleared almost instantly from before them, and Indech’s phantom soldiers faded into nothingness.

“ _You couldn’t have taught me that trick before now? Do you realize how many of these stupid phantoms I’ve had to kill over the years?_ ” Byleth’s indignation earned a giggle from Sothis. It sounded wrong to her, coming from her voice, but she noticed Edelgard’s breath hitch as Sothis turned to beam at their companions. “ _Ah. Interesting. I’ll need to remember that._ ” Sothis grinned widely. “Alright. I’m switching back now. It is ever so nice to get these little forays into the physical world every now and again…”

With a start, Byleth found herself back in control of her body, and motioned for the four of them to set out toward the far end of the temple. As they drew closer, she took in the sight of Indech’s massive form, waiting at the top of a raised platform. His dragon form closely resembled a turtle, albeit with far more spikes sticking out from the thick shell on his back. His long neck was stockier than Macuil’s, and his body was colored a dull grey. Her eyes fell, as they did every time she visited him, on the huge masses of scarring at the lip of his shell, up by his forelimbs. It was almost as if…

“ _Indech?! What… What happened to your wings?_ ” Sothis shot forward towards the now very confused testudinal dragon. “Wh-who… Who is that? What is this?!” She stopped at his side, and reached a hand towards the scarred region on his left flank. “ _Indech… It is me. Mother is here… Now tell me, what happened to you?_ ” His eyes widened, and he moved his head close to where Sothis’ voice had come from. Flayn suddenly dashed behind Byleth, peering out from behind her nervously, much to Byleth’s amusement.

“M… Mother? Can it truly be…? But, I cannot see you. Why can I not see you?” Seteth took a few steps forward, and cleared his throat. “Hello, Brother. It has been quite a long time.” Indech turned his head to look at Seteth, taking in his form warily. “Cichol… What is this?”

Seteth sighed. “I, and those with me, were in the area, and Mother insisted on coming to see you. I know you value your solitude, but… It is good to see you again.” A low rumble came from Indech’s chest. “It… It is good to see you as well. But why can I not see Mother?” Byleth stepped forward next. “Sothis no longer has a physical body. I am the vessel for her heart. My name is Byleth.” Indech lowered his head slightly, and Byleth could almost swear that he was pouting.

“I… see. I will not suggest that I am happy about this. But… Please, Mother… Speak to me more. Let me hear your voice.” Sothis’ expression switched between annoyance and fondness rapidly, and she let out a frustrated sigh. “ _I asked my question first, dear Indech. But… I cannot begrudge you a little time. My memories are not whole, but know that the love I hold for you, and for all of your remaining siblings, burns brighter than when I walked this world physically. Now, please… What happened to your wings?_ ” Surprisingly, Seteth fielded the question.

“Mother, please. It was a traumatic time for all of us. If Indech does not wish to speak of it, I wish that you would let him stay silent.” Sothis huffed. “ _I suppose you make a fair point. I am sorry, Indech._ ” He shook his massive head, slowly. “No harm done, Mother. It is not a happy story, but… I will tell it to you, if you truly wish.” 

Byleth shook her head. “We’ll have time for that later. For now, someone else wants to see you.” Flayn stepped out, a sheepish look on her face. “Ah… Um… Hello! We have not met before, but… I am--” “Oh! You are Cethleann! I have wanted to meet you for a very long time, indeed. Er… Hello, then. I am Indech. Ah, but… You already knew that. Forgive me.”

Byleth stifled a laugh behind her fist. She had known Bernadetta had the Crest of Indech, and heard from Seteth about her connection to his fable about Indech and Cichol’s adventures in a lifetime long ago, but it was so _comical_ how similar the two of them were. Images of Indech’s giant dragon form trying to speak through a cracked dorm door at the monastery swam in her mind’s eye, and Sothis turned to her with exasperation on her face. Speaking in her mind, Sothis chided her. “ _Do not laugh at my son! You ought to know better from how you interact with the nervous girl._ ”

She pushed an apology through to Sothis, watching with interest as Flayn began to jabber to Indech. It was hard to tell, but from the tenseness of his body, she was willing to bet that the older Saint was being overwhelmed by the younger one. To save him, Byleth put a hand on Flayn’s shoulder. 

She jumped a little, evidently having forgotten that any of the rest of them were even present. “Ah… Sorry, Professor! I must have gotten carried away.” Byleth chuckled at her. “It’s alright. But Sothis has another question for Indech, so I figured…” The dragon before her let out a low, grinding noise. “Very well. What is your question, Mother?”

“ _It’s fairly simple, actually. I want you to come back with us to Garreg Mach. Would you be willing to do that? Macuil and Seiros are both there, and would be delighted to see you again_.” Sothis face twisted up for a moment, and snatches of memory filtered into Byleth’s mind. “ _I know how much you love your sister, after all._ ”

“I… I don’t know. While I would truly love to see Seiros again, is the monastery not full of… of people?” Seteth nodded. “Garreg Mach is the center of everything that Seiros has built over the last twelve hundred years.” Indech looked out over the lake, in contemplation. Worried that he was going to refuse, Byleth tried a different tactic.

“You know, there’s a girl that I teach who bears your Crest. Her name is Bernadetta, and she’s one of the sweetest people I have ever met. Much like you, she is uncomfortable in social situations, but she has developed a surprising number of ways to cope. I imagine that she would be willing to share what she’s learned with you, if you wanted.”

Indech hummed, a sound that shook the very stone of the temple. “I… If that is the case… Well… I suppose I shall brave the monastery. I do dearly miss Seiros, and it would give me a chance to be there for you as well, Cethleann.” He shook his head a little. “I am not the best at conversation, but it… it does my heart good to see your smile.” That earned him a particularly wide one from the green-haired girl.

Edelgard spoke up. “I think it would be prudent, Saint Indech, for you to know another thing that you will face on returning with us to the monastery.” He eyed her warily. “And who are you?” She gave a small bow. “I am Edelgard von Hresvelg, heir of the Adrestian Empire. I am only its heir due to the intervention of a group that has been manipulating Fodlan from the shadows for millennia. I speak of the Agarthans.” Indech let out a low growl, but Edelgard continued on. “Your brother Macuil indicated that he thought Agartha was destroyed, but that is not true. They clung to life, and are even now attempting to destroy both my kind and those few who remain of your family. You will be in danger again if you return.”

Sothis shot Edelgard an appreciative look - evidently telling Indech that news had been a daunting prospect to her. Indech’s growl began to shake the stone of the temple again. “They… they will not take anyone else from us. I shall return, and wage war again, if I must.” He bowed his head, and disappeared in a burst of green light. 

Indech’s human form was surprisingly muscular. He was much stockier than either of his brothers, and had a rather sharp jawline, ending in a tight, pointed chin. His hair fell to his shoulders, almost the same minty shade as Rhea’s hair. Rather than the robes Macuil had worn, Indech wore a faded, battle-worn chest plate and vambraces over a plain teal undershirt. His eyes shifted from each of them quickly, and he began to roll his neck and stretch. 

“It is odd, being in this form again. I wonder if my skills have remained intact?” He looked questioningly at Seteth, who shrugged. “There are ample facilities to train at the monastery, should you wish to return to peak ability.” Indech nodded, then stooped down. Resting at his feet was a bow that Byleth recognized - The Inexhaustible. He gave its bowstring a few, experimental tugs, and nodded, evidently satisfied with its condition.

Seteth spoke again, sounding weary. “There is one more matter to discuss before we head back to camp. Those of us who remain do not use our true names. To the public, Seiros is known as Rhea, the current archbishop of the Church of Seiros, while I am known as Seteth, Cethleann is known as Flayn, and Macuil is known as Ethur. At the monastery, Cethleann and I are brother and sister, and Macuil is our cousin. We are not related to Rhea. You can be another cousin of ours, but we need a new name for you.”

Indech hummed in thought. “Well… There was a name that some humans knew me by when I taught them how to hunt more efficiently. They called me Cernunnos. Does that name have any significance in the history sister has created?” Seteth shook his head. “Then Cernunnos it is.” Sothis smiled, saying “ _It is not as good as Indech, but I like it nonetheless_.” Indech smiled. After a brief scan of the area to ensure that there was nothing that Indech wanted to bring with him, the six of them walked back towards the shoreline as the midday sun beat down upon them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hooooooo man! There's so much in here I've been waiting to get to for so long. I won't comment much about Claude's situation, but I'm excited for yall to see where he's going. Writing angry Seteth and grieving Seteth back to back was a little bit of a stretch, but I'm glad that we got to do the Rhodos Coast when we did. Indech is a sweetie. I'm going to try my hardest to differentiate him from Bernie, because they're *not* the same person, but they are definitely more similar than they are different. Another shoutout to https://herukas.tumblr.com for being where I drew my inspiration for Macuil and Indech's designs.
> 
> And uh... How's about that dream, huh?
> 
> Etymology corner:  
> \- Eithne is a modern spelling of Ethniu. In Irish mythology, Ethniu was a Fomorian who married Cian, of the Tuatha De Dannan, bringing two disparate groups together quite literally in the form of her son with him, Lugh. It seemed fitting, because my headcanon has always been that Seteth married a human, and thus Flayn is a half-blooded manakete.  
> \- Cernunnos is a Celtic deity associated with hunting, but more generally too with animals and nature. Indech is a big, big outdoorsy type in this setting, preferring the company of animals to people
> 
> Next time... A family reunion and a double birthday party


	30. Happy Returns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth and the Children of the Goddess plan for their new reality, and a very important meeting takes place.

They had, with only minor reshuffling, managed to get everyone in the air once more with relative ease. Edelgard had quickly volunteered her wyvern for Indech’s use, joining Byleth atop hers to a chorus of hidden smiles from her classmates (or not so hidden, in the case of Dorothea). As far as keeping the things they saw quiet went, the Black Eagles had evidently become used to strange things happening on their missions. None of them save Linhardt had spared more than a second or third glance at Indech, now disguised as Cernunnos. Her healer tried several times to poke his nose in to figure out who exactly Indech was, but evidently he had no luck. A serious look from Edelgard had finally shut him up, surprising Byleth. During their flight that afternoon, Byleth questioned her about it.

“Say, El,” she shouted, fighting to overpower the wind whipping around them. “When did you get so good at corralling Linhardt?” Edelgard shifted in the saddle behind her, leaning up close against Byleth’s back. In stark contrast to mere moments earlier, Byleth’s face reached a boiling temperature even with the wind against them. “I simply followed your example. Linhardt works best at his own pace, and with things he wants to apply himself to. I merely promised him something else enticing for his research when we get back.” Byleth was about to ask what she’d promised when Seteth, at the head of their formation, let out a loud whistle to signal that they were to begin their descent. She repeated the noise, and the Black Eagles returned to solid ground shortly thereafter.

They had landed somewhere in Gaspard territory, if she had to guess. Following the river south from Lake Teutates would take them past the eastern edge of Rowe land, and along the northern and eastern regions of Gaspard, but they had flown for far too long to still be near Rowe. Seteth gathered up all the students, then produced a map of Fodlan from within his robes. Once he had everyone’s attention, he pointed out a village that was nearby in his estimation. Byleth smiled at her correct guess of their landing point - her aerial mapping abilities were nowhere as keen as Seteth’s, but he had the distinct advantages of several thousand years of life and travel, and also being a dragon. 

After half an hour of low altitude flight, the Eagles touched down once more outside the village. It was modest, reminding Byleth of a hundred little villages she had her father had wandered through as mercenaries so many years ago. They left their wyverns outside the village stables so as not to scare the poor horses inside to death, stabled Constance’s pegasus, and rented out all three rooms and the attic in the village inn. Seteth, Indech, and Flayn had a room to themselves, Edelgard, Bernadetta and Dorothea were rooming with Byleth, and Lysithea, Hapi, Petra, and Constance shared the final room. The Black Eagle boys were crammed like sardines in the attic, a sight which Dorothea desperately wanted to see.

Unexpectedly, a knock rang out on Byleth’s door. She opened it a crack, ignoring the watchful eyes of her students, to find Seteth standing there. “Ah. Professor. Would you be so kind as to come with me for a moment? I have something that we need to discuss before we return to the monastery.” Mind racing, she nodded, and slipped out of the room, shooting Edelgard a look that she hoped communicated “ _Don’t let Dorothea snoop on the boys_ ”.

Sothis appeared, floating along with a curious look on her face. After they entered Seteth’s room, he began to apply Muffling to the walls, ceiling, and floor, before turning to Byleth with a grave look in his eye. It was mirrored on Flayn and Indech’s faces, though with an added look of worry and nervous concern, respectively. Seteth cleared his throat, searching for a graceful way to begin speaking.

“Well… I called you in here, Byleth, because we need to discuss how we are going to handle this situation.” His eyes flickered to Indech, and Byleth nodded, grasping quickly why he was concerned. “You’re worried about how Rhea’s going to take this.” Seteth let out a dark laugh. “If only that were all…”

He tilted his head upwards, sighing deeply as his hair fell away, revealing the tips of his ears. Returning his gaze to her, he continued to speak. “I have already strained my trust with Seiros by bringing Macuil back unannounced and unasked for. It truly strained credulity then, and she only let the matter rest because she was happy to see him again. When we arrive with Indech in tow, she will be…” He paused, uncertain of how to phrase it.

“ _Irate? Insensibly angry with you? Foolishly upset at having her perfect plans disrupted?_ ” Sothis was floating next to Byleth, a weary look on her face. Seteth grimaced, but nodded. “Perhaps less gently put than I would have chosen, Mother, but accurate. We have been attempting to consider a course of action, but we realized very quickly that you ought to be involved in this.” Flayn piped up, though her normal cheer was almost completely gone. “I hope you do not mind, Professor, but I told Uncle all that you have told us about your connection to Grandmother, so that he would be more at ease with you helping us decide.” She smiled sheepishly, and Byleth returned her smile warmly. “I don’t mind at all, Flayn. Thank you for telling me, though.”

Indech sighed. “I… I apologize for all the trouble. Stars know I wouldn’t have agreed if I… Well, no, that is untrue. I hate that all this fuss is occurring because of my presence, though.” She shook her head. “It’s no trouble at all, Indech. It’s just… bringing to a head a discussion that I’ve been putting off for a while. I think we ought to consider--” “ _Wait, Byleth. I have an alternative suggestion._ ” It was rare for Sothis to cut her off, so Byleth turned and gave her her full attention. “Okay, Sothis. What’s your idea?”

“ _Though it pains me to even suggest this, I know that all of you love Cethleann deeply, Seiros included. She is also fortunate enough to number among those few who are able to both hear and see me. If… If we perhaps spun things, and said that something occurred at the shrine on the Rhodos Coast that led to Cethleann suddenly being able to function as my Voice to the people… That would keep us from needing to reveal our true plans for a little longer, as well as keep Seiros’ full attention off of Byleth, while also not endangering our chosen Oracle like it would were we to put Edelgard forward. It would also allow Seiros to give Cethleann even tighter security than she already has, and prevent her kidnapping wholesale._ ”

Byleth was stunned. The plan would probably _work_ , of course, but to hear Sothis suggesting something so mercenary, at the expense of her own granddaughter… She was about to speak, when she saw a pained expression on Seteth’s face. He let out a low growl, eyes locked on the space where Sothis’ voice had come from. “Mother… While I cannot deny that this plan would be effective, Cethleann is my very _life_. To use her like this… To _deceive_ Seiros like this… I do not know if I can agree.”

Sothis responded in a painfully even and controlled tone that did not match the consternation on her face. “ _Cichol, I know what I am asking you to do, but what other choice do we have? It is either this, you losing Seiros’ trust and goodwill, or Byleth coming forward before she is ready to do so. Those are our options._ ” The look on her face was miserable, and before she realized what she was doing, Byleth shouted out “NO!”

All four manaketes stared at her, shocked. She cleared her throat, willing herself to speak, to say what she knew she had to… “I will tell Rhea myself. I won’t tell her everything, and honestly she couldn’t _handle_ everything, but… We don’t have the luxury of secrecy any longer. I won’t risk Flayn for my own comfort, and I won’t risk your relationship with your sister, Seteth.” Turning to Sothis, Byleth forced out a smile. “Thank you for trying to protect me, Sothis… But I know what I have to do, even if it’s going to make things harder for us in the short term.”

Seteth let out a relieved sigh, which was echoed by Indech. Flayn looked as though she was going to burst into tears. Sothis stared at Byleth’s eyes, carefully. “ _Are you certain about this, little one? Once we tell Seiros even a hint of the truth, there is no going back._ ” Byleth smirked. “Of course there is. But we won’t be doing it. I’m more sure about this than I have been in a long time.” Seteth sank down onto one of the beds, massaging his temples. “Thank you”, he said, his voice little more than a whisper. Byleth nodded, and bid the green haired trio goodnight before slipping back to her room.

\---

Byleth had been gravely silent ever since returning from Seteth’s room the night before. Edelgard tried to get her to say what troubled her during the flight back to Garreg Mach, but she merely shook her head. All she had been able to get out of the blue-haired woman was “I’ll tell you all at our next meeting, which is going to have to be as soon as humanly possible after tomorrow evening.” Edelgard’s mind raced with possibilities, none of them comforting. She tried to reach out to Sothis, but the little goddess had erected some kind of mental barrier that kept Edelgard’s thoughts at bay. She could feel occasional waves of emotion, happiness and sadness and pride all jumbled together, but Sothis gave her no hints. The Eagles neared Garreg Mach in the late afternoon on the 9th of Horsebow Moon, touching down in the wyvern aviary and quickly dispersing. Edelgard stuck to Byleth like a shadow, as did the three children of the goddess.

Byleth eyed Edelgard warily the closer they got to the administrative building, but before either one could say anything, their group bumped into Leonie. “Oh, hey Professor! I was looking for you, actually.” Byleth looked confused. “What for?” Edelgard stiffened ever so slightly at Byleth’s lack of manners, before chastising herself. It was harder to remove noble breeding and bearing from a place of automatic response than she had thought. Leonie, however, didn’t seem to notice or care.

“Got a message from Claude for you, actually. He got called back to Derdriu for some big noble thing, and won’t be back for a couple weeks.” Byleth swore under her breath, which amused Flayn greatly. Edelgard smiled, too - that girl’s happiness was infectious, somehow. “I… see. That’s unfortunate. Thanks, Leonie. Could you do me a favor?” Leonie’s whole posture changed as she focused on Byleth. “Sure thing, Cap. Shoot.” Byleth looked puzzled. “Er… Cap?”

Leonie blushed pink. “Oh, damn, sorry! Ah… Okay, this is embarrassing, so I’m only saying it once. You fight like a one-woman army, and I look up to you… Not as much as Captain Jeralt of course, but I still do. So, you know…” Byleth chuckled. “So I get half of my old man’s title as a nickname? That’s real nice, Pinelli.” She smiled warmly, and added, “Thank you.” Leonie coughed deeply, trying to force the color back down. Byleth laughed softly again, and shook her head. “Anyway… Could you find Hilda and let her know that we’re going to need to meet tomorrow afternoon at four bells? She’ll know what I’m talking about.” Leonie nodded sharply, and started to turn to leave when she noticed Indech.

“Oh, geez, I’m sorry! Didn’t mean to be rude.” Edelgard realized that she must have assumed Indech was some high-ranking Knight of Seiros, which wasn’t all that far from the truth. “Leonie Pinelli, at your service.” Indech’s eyes widened, and he looked around nervously before nodding slightly. “Ah… Cernunnos, at yours.” Leonie’s eyes narrowed. “Well… That’s kinda rude.”

Everyone looked at each other, nonplussed. Indech cocked his head to the side, and Edelgard winced before realizing that whatever magic normally held Seteth’s hair in place was now in effect on his brother. “I… beg your pardon? Have I offended?” Leonie clapped a hand to her forehead. “Agh, shi… shoot” - her eyes flickered to Seteth for a moment - “no, sorry. Just running my mouth without thinking. It’s just… Well…” Seteth seemed to sense her discomfort, and forced a small smile. “Whatever you have to say, do not fear because of my presence. I find myself temporarily blind and deaf for whatever reason.”

Leonie smiled at him in return, then looked back at Indech. “It’s just that, all the hunters in my part of Fodlan have a… I guess you’d call him an unofficial saint? I doubt the Church would like him, but he was this great hunter by that same name. Old Saint Cernunnos is the patron of hunters out in the wilder areas of Fodlan. When I mouthed off earlier, I meant that it was kinda rude of your parents to name you that, not that it was rude for you to have that name. Though…” She eyed his attire and his sacred bow appraisingly for a moment, before speaking again. “Well, you look like you’d do him proud, I guess. Still, I’d like to give your parents a piece of my mind.”

Edelgard nearly jumped when Sothis started cackling with laughter, and thankfully Indech had the good grace to laugh a little himself. “Well… If I ever am in a position to let you meet them, I’ll be sure to let you say your fill. It was nice to meet you, Ms. Pinelli.” He gave her a stiff bow, and she returned it awkwardly before excusing herself. Sothis, still laughing to herself, muttered something about “ _a piece of her mind, indeed_ ” before she flew off towards the Knights’ Hall. Soon after, she returned with Macuil in tow. His green eyes widened in shock as he saw Indech, who smiled at him. The two embraced wordlessly, before Macuil pulled away and looked at Seteth and Byleth with concern. “What is going on here?”

Byleth sighed. “I’ve decided that there are some things Rhea needs to hear. We’re going up there together to do just that.” Edelgard’s mouth dropped open, and she hissed out “Byleth! Are you _sure_?!” Fear and worry coiled around her heart like twin serpents, but a small smile from Byleth shook them loose. “Don’t worry so much, El. I’ve got this under control. Just… be sure to come to the meeting tomorrow. Bring Hubert, and please inform Yuri about it as well.” She nodded in acknowledgement. “I… I hope that this goes the way you expect, then. Please be careful.”

Byleth laughed. “When am I ever not?” Edelgard decided that this was not the time to list out how many times she had not been careful while Edelgard had known her, opting instead to click her tongue and shake her head. Giving her one last smile, Byleth, flanked by two children of the goddess on either side and with the goddess herself leaning on her shoulder, walked toward the stairs, towards Rhea. 

\---

Byleth started towards the audience chamber when the six of them arrived at the second floor landing, but was stopped by Seteth’s hand on her shoulder. “This… is not a conversation we should have _anywhere_ that could be subject to unexpected entries. If you would take everyone to the third floor… Flayn, I believe you know how to undo the wards?” The green-haired girl nodded enthusiastically, and Byleth suspected that she had to physically stop herself from grabbing Indech and Macuil by the hands to lead them onwards. She and Sothis followed shortly behind the green-haired trio, while Seteth slipped into the audience chamber.

Flayn made grand, sweeping motions in front of the doors to Rhea’s solar, and their small group stepped inside. Byleth had rarely been in here before - unlike Rhea’s bedroom, she had never had “official business” inside there, meaning that Cyril had stopped her attempts to snoop during the war when she was on the church’s side of things. Frustratingly, the room had always been converted by the Empire before she returned from her five year sleep when she sided with Edelgard, so this was her first time to see it as Rhea intended.

It was, all told, not a large room, though large enough to serve its purpose. It was down the hall from Rhea’s bedroom, situated to catch as much sunlight through its massive windows as possible. There was a long table with ten light armchairs in a pale cream color, each of which looked quite luxurious in their own right. The wood was equally light and cheerful in color, and a thick, plush carpet had been laid down in the whole room save for in front of the large fireplace. An ornate marble mantle had been crafted around it, and another, heavier armchair was situated to face it. Bookshelves, stuffed to bursting with all manner of material, lined the walls near the fireplace, while incredible pieces of religious art lined the rest of the walls, including artists’ renditions of each of the Four Saints. To Byleth’s shock, Rhea had the Sword of Seiros mounted above the mantle.

Flayn settled into the seat at the left of the head chair, facing the door. Indech and Macuil took chairs to the right of the head, and Byleth nervously took a seat at the foot of the table. They had all agreed, without speaking, that Rhea would take the head. Sothis appeared, and tried to send as much comforting energy to Byleth through their mental link as she could. It wasn’t enough to soothe her nerves, but she appreciated the gesture. Finally, after what felt like an hour (though the sun’s unchanged position through the window disputed it), the door opened again. Rhea swept into the solar, followed by Seteth, who closed, warded, and Muffled the door.

Indech stood, which caught Rhea’s attention before she could look over toward Byleth. Rhea fell back against the wall, her hands clutched together against her chest. “I… Indech? My sweet brother, is that… Can it be?” Indech smiled wider than Byleth had seen him smile yet, and he quickly closed the distance and wrapped Rhea in an embrace. “Oh, Seiros… It’s been so long… I’ve missed you ‘terrible’, little sister.” 

Tears shone in Rhea’s emerald eyes, and she laughed. “Still at it, after so long? Very well… It’s ‘terribly’, you silly…” The words died in her mouth as she caught sight of Byleth, who was attempting unsuccessfully to disappear into the armchair she was seated in. Fear, surprise, anger, and desperation flashed across Rhea’s face before she could pull her usual mask of neutrality back down. “I… W-what is the meaning of this?! Seteth? What have you done?”

Seteth, rather than stay within arms’ reach, went around the long way and sat down at Flayn’s left. “We have some important news. I thought it would be best to do this here, away from prying eyes and ears.” He kept his face perfectly neutral, though a slight strain was evident in his voice. Flayn piped up next, her eyes sparkling. “It’s true! We… Well, suffice it to say, this is a good thing! But it is a very secret thing, too!” Byleth smiled at Flayn, before returning her gaze to Rhea. Indech led her by the hand over to the empty chair at the head of the table, before resuming his own seat at her right. Rhea lowered herself stiffly into the chair, and sat rigidly upright, attempting to burn a hole into Byleth’s face with her stare.

The room was utterly silent for a moment, before Byleth sighed. “I’m sure this comes as a shock to you, Rhea. You might even feel a little betrayed… I suppose that’s your right, since I haven’t indicated anything of what I’m about to say to you this whole time. I apologize. But, recent circumstances” - she looked toward Indech, and smiled faintly - “have demanded that I break my silence.”

Rhea’s face bore a million questions, but for now, she simply nodded, and Byleth took that as a cue to continue. “Please understand, I can’t tell you everything there is to know right now. I don’t _know_ everything there is to know right now, but I can tell you this much. Since the Great Tree Moon of 1180, I have been in contact with a being that shares my body and mind. Over time, I grew to know her more, and learn more about her. Her name, as you well know, is Sothis.”

Rhea’s pupils wobbled strangely, becoming much more slit-like. The look of sheer hunger she remembered from their first meeting in this lifetime was back in force. “She doesn’t have all of her memories, and she cannot influence the physical world or speak to most people, but she is here with me, always. In fact… Do you want to take over for a bit? Say hello?” She turned her head to Sothis, ignoring Rhea’s piercing stare. Sothis hummed in thought, then nodded.

Byleth breathed in deeply, and closed her eyes. She was within herself, now, watching from the throne. Sothis opened Byleth’s eyes, and she heard Rhea draw in a sharp breath as she took in Byleth’s changed eye color. Sothis rolled Byleth’s shoulders and neck, stretching a little, before smiling warmly at all assembled. 

“Cichol, Indech, Macuil, and Seiros… How long has it been, since all of us were together?” She smiled and looked towards Flayn. “And, we are joined by the most wonderful granddaughter I could ever ask for, too! What a day…” She sighed, contentedly. Rhea had abandoned her attempt to keep a neutral face completely, and tears formed in her eyes. “So few remain. Yet, here we all are, a family once more.” Byleth nudged Sothis mentally, which caused her to jump in Byleth’s body.

“Oh! Right, I suppose I should say a few things. First of all, you need to stop being angry at Cichol. We went to Sreng to find Macuil at my request. We did the same this time, after Byleth’s mission to the Rhodos Coast. Both Macuil and Indech are here at my request.” Seteth smiled, and shook his head, which elicited a pouty huff from Sothis that sounded quite odd coming from Byleth’s body.

“Second… Byleth knows of our history. She knows your identity, and that of all those present here. So there is no need to be oblique with her any longer.” “ _Are you going to mention the Crest Stone?_ ”, Byleth asked. Sothis hummed, then responded “ _No. That is a conversation for the two of you to have, later._ ”

“Third…” Sothis grew serious, and Byleth couldn’t help but wonder where she was going with this. “I want you to swear to me, here and now, that you will not treat Byleth any differently than you have. Take her to tea if you wish, meet with her as you always do, but do not attempt to do anything… untoward. Do not _dare_ bring her to the Holy Tomb.” She paused. “Swear it.”

Rhea stammered, clearly not having expected this. “I… I-I… But…” She let out a defeated sigh. “Yes, Mother. I swear it.”

Byleth’s body lurched unexpectedly. “ _Sothis, I was exhausted before we came in here. We don’t have long like this._ ” She nodded Byleth’s head. “Good. Thank you. Now, as much as I would love to stay and chat, I cannot keep up this possession for very long. There is one more thing that we need to address, and then you can talk with Byleth again. Namely… why you have been unable to see or hear me for the six months I have been at Garreg Mach.”

Rhea let out a choked sob. “I… I have _longed_ to see your face, to hear your voice… For over a thousand years, I have worked _tirelessly_ to bring you back to m-- us. I built all of this for _you_ … Why am I being punished like this? What did I _do_ , Mother?” Tears began to stream down her face, and Indech reached out a hand nervously, laying it on Rhea’s shoulder.

“Oh… little dragon… You aren’t being punished.” Waves of sadness from Sothis poured over Byleth, and she was certain that if she were the one in control of her body right now, she would be on the verge of tears herself. “I do not know for sure why you cannot see or hear me, but… If I had to guess, it is due to the fact that you have never let me go. Cichol, did you mourn my death?” Seteth started from being called on suddenly, but nodded. “It was as though my heart had been torn in two. Eithne helped to calm my raging soul, and after a time, I grieved my last for you.” Sothis nodded, turning her attention to Macuil.

“Macuil? What about you?” He grunted, considering his words. “I did. My isolation was not only due to my hatred for what humans had become, but because I was overcome by your loss at their hands. At some point, I grieved my last for you, though my hate continued to burn for a long while.” Sothis turned to Indech. “What of you, sweet Indech?” He nodded, slowly. “Losing you… it made me want to hide away from the world. But at some point while I was hiding, I healed a little.”

Sothis hummed. “Cethleann here never knew me, and never grieved for me. That, if I had to hazard a guess, is why she can not only hear me, as your brothers can, but also see me, as well.” Flayn beamed with joy, though as she caught Rhea’s eye her smile faded. “I’m sorry, Auntie! I would have said something, but--” Rhea raised a hand. “It is alright, dear one. I am not upset with you. I am not upset with any of you, anymore.”

Sothis sighed. “So… That, if I had to guess, is what the issue is. Still, it is not as though we have been unable to interact completely.” She smiled. “Do you remember the night when you brought Byleth into your bedchambers?” Indech blanched, and Macuil looked at Byleth with fury. “Oh, not like that. Honestly, you two…” Sothis shook Byleth’s head. Rhea nodded, then gasped. “That _was_ you?! I had thought it merely a dream…”

A strange feeling rippled through Byleth, emanating from Sothis. “Dreams can be powerful things, Seiros. They can give, and take… And give new direction where none previously existed. In that melody, I shall always be with you, little dragon.” Byleth’s body shuddered. “Ah… I am sorry. But my time is up. Byleth is coming back, and I will need to take a little nap…”

After a lurch, Byleth found herself back in control of her body. Sothis’ presence dwindled within her as she fell asleep. She shook her head, muttering “I’ll never get used to that…”, when she heard a chair scooting backwards. She looked up just in time as Rhea threw herself at Byleth, wrapping around her awkwardly in an embrace. “Er… Rhea?”

Rhea pulled back, staring into her now-blue eyes. “Yes, dear ch-- Byleth?” Byleth sighed. “I’m sorry that she couldn’t stay longer. It’s just… It’s very taxing on her to do that, and when my body is exhausted like it is, she has even less time than normal… And, I’m sorry for hiding this from you for so long.” Rhea shook her head.

“While I cannot say that I am pleased to learn that Mother has been here this whole time… Looking back over your actions and conduct over these moons, I can see her influence clearly, now. I… I wanted to ask your… your forgiveness.”

Byleth stared at Rhea, unsure of what she was hearing. “I… Forgiveness?” Rhea hung her head. “Yes. For what I did to you at birth, and how I have, ever since then, viewed you. I…” She stopped, and whipped her head back up. “You… you do know what I refer to, do you not?” For a moment, Byleth considered lying if only to keep her ruse about Bereth up, but disregarded that thought almost instantly.

“I do.”

Rhea nodded, a sad look on her face. “I was… I was obsessed with trying to bring Mother back, though it does not excuse my actions… And ever since you returned, I have allowed myself to only think of you as an experiment… As an empty vessel, waiting for Mother’s return. I have tried to squash down the growing feelings of love I have held for you ever since our nighttime tea. It is the same love that I felt for your mother… I… I did not deserve a daughter as kind as her, nor to ever meet anyone as kind as you, dear one.” 

Byleth reached a hand out, and rested it on Rhea’s shoulder. “I forgive you, Rhea.” Her emerald eyes opened wide in shock. “But… But, what I have done to you is--” “Is forgivable, Rhea. I would know, I’m the one who experienced it. Can I ask you something, though?” 

“Anything. If I can answer it, I shall.”

“Can you try to forgive yourself? I know it’s what Sothis would say. After so long together, our hearts beat as one, after all.” She smiled. “She would want me to tell you that you’re worthy of forgiveness, even after what you’ve done. She wouldn’t want you to torment yourself about it forever.” She looked out at the Four Saints at the table. They were, one and all, smiling. Indech and Flayn were wiping away tears, and Macuil was focusing very hard on an interesting bit of woodgrain to center himself. Seteth nodded to her as they made eye contact.

Rhea let out a long, low sigh. “I… I will try.”

Byleth smiled. “Good. Now that that’s settled, though…” She got up suddenly, causing Rhea to step back. “I think you and your family deserve some quality time together. I’ll take my leave.” Rhea reached out and grabbed her hand.

“Oh, but… Byleth, you _are_ family! Please, do not feel as though you are imposing. You are dear to me because of who you are, not to mention that Mother slumbers within you.” Byleth shook her head. “Well, that’s kind of you… But even family gets tired. I’ll see you all later, alright?” Indech and Macuil mumbled farewells, and Flayn ran around the table to hug Byleth around the waist. Byleth released the ward on the door (which drew a gasp from Rhea, and a smile from Seteth), and headed off for a bath, dinner, and an early bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the shorter chapter than normal, but I wanted to end after the reunion scene. Next chapter will take us to the twins' birthday party on the 20th of Horsebow Moon, and the one after that... Well, hang onto your hats, folks.
> 
> Now, some housekeeping: I've gone through my notes, and charted out a *rough* estimate for how much is left of the fic. Provided I'm able to stick to what I've outlined, which is admittedly a big ask, there are about fifteen more chapters before we reach the end of the fic, and I have an epilogue planned for immediately after the end. The final chapter and epilogue will be posted back to back, too. We could theoretically see the end of A Matched Pair before chapter 60, which makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Edit: I do want to stress that I'm not planning on bringing this fic to an early end. This is just a baseline, ballpark for how many more chapters there might be. In all likelihood, it's going to go beyond that.
> 
> Also, posting may slow down a little bit in the near future. I'm starting another semester of grad school in about six hours from time of posting (yeah yeah, I know, midnight oil and all that), which could either slow me down, or speed me way, way up because of procrastination. I don't know yet, but we'll find out together. I ask that you be patient if it does slow me down - I have no plans to abandon this fic. I'm truly grateful for so many kind comments. Knowing that people enjoy what I wrote makes me unspeakably happy. Thank you all for giving your time and attention to my little story.


	31. Time's Warm Embrace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth trains the Eagles and has a moment with Lysithea and Catherine, the secret time travel squad has another meeting, Bereth makes a breakthrough, Edelgard makes some new allies, and a special surprise awaits the twins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The seasons turn,  
> Summer to fall.  
> Time's warm embrace  
> Begins to heal all.

The morning of the 10th of Horsebow Moon seemed to drag on for far longer than it had any real right to. Byleth was impatient, and for good reason - their meeting this month was of more importance than any that had come before it. Though she was frustrated by Claude’s absence, this _was_ about the time when he was usually called back to lead the Alliance Roundtable in his grandfather’s stead, at least for a little while. It couldn’t be helped that he was gone, although according to Leonie he wouldn’t be back until the 21st at the earliest. That, combined with his recent behavior… Well, Byleth could admit that it stung a little bit - after all, this would be Bereth’s first twenty-first birthday, and _her_ first birthday as a twin.

She shook her head to chase away unpleasant thoughts about Claude, instead focusing on instructing her class. Since their mission for the moon was technically fulfilled by the outing to the Rhodos Coast, the Black Eagles had quite a bit of time before they needed to go out on a mission again. The Wyvern Moon usually passed uneventfully in the lead-up to the Battle of the Eagle and Lion, and so long as they managed to prevent Flayn’s kidnapping, the rest of the Horsebow Moon would fade off quietly as well. That left the calamity at Remire as the only thing Byleth knew to prepare for, so that was exactly what she was going to do.

Their lessons for the coming moon would shift a little in light of the Battle, but until it got closer, she planned on teaching about the ugly side of war - civilian rebellions, pacification actions, non-lethal crowd control… It was one of her least-favorite subjects, but if she could get it through her kids’ heads how to deal with the villagers at Remire long before they’d need that training, theoretically they could save more lives than they ever had before. That particular day saw Yuri join them for the lecture, and his underworld experience provided a very useful perspective to bounce off of as Byleth introduced them to the mechanics and techniques behind capturing a hostile foe, rather than killing them. 

Sothis recovered from her possession efforts the day before during lunch, yawning so loudly that both Byleth and Edelgard jumped at the table. The rest of her class was confused or amused by that greatly, but Byleth played it off well enough. With Sothis awake, she felt confident enough to start a very tricky practical session for their afternoon class time. Incapacitation without permanent injury was a skill that would serve all of her students well, and Yuri offered to help teach the physically-oriented fighters. Byleth, meanwhile, had the harder job - teaching magical powerhouses how to regulate their power. As she started fishing tomes out of a sack, she shot Yuri a look, and whispered “Don’t think I’ve forgotten about our spar, Leclerc.” He hummed disinterestedly, but gave her a sly smile nonetheless.

Anna had come through for her, though as usual she felt absolutely cheated on pricing. She had bought a small array of specialty tomes that were designed to limit a caster’s innate ability, known as Disabling tomes. They were designed for training mages to get an innate feel for the precise amount of power needed to disable an opponent, and the harder a mage pushed against the tomes’ limitations, the more difficult casting would become. Two of them were specialized Wind tomes, one a specialized Thunder tome, and three were specialized Dark magic tomes not often seen in Fodlan, Flux. She distributed the tomes based on what spells her mages were unfamiliar with - Linhardt, for example, had no experience with Thunder magic, so there was no chance of him mixing up the sensation of casting Disabling Thunder with regular Thunder. Handing off Disabling Wind to Dorothea and Constance and Disabling Flux to her dark mages, she set them all to work, calling on Sothis’ power to cast the Shield spell for them to strike.

At some point Catherine and Shamir came into the training grounds, and began to fly through their drills and forms while keeping a watchful eye on her lesson. The Eagles trained until the third bell, when Byleth decided that they had had enough. All of her mages were utterly exhausted, but as expected Lysithea was the worst of all of them. She dismissed her class, though she asked for Yuri, Edelgard, and Hubert to wait in the Black Eagles homeroom. Poor Lysithea could barely move, so Byleth scooped her up (ignoring her weak, token protest) and sat her on one of the benches along the side. The young dark mage began to convulse a little, her eyes bloodshot.

Byleth quickly reached for the healing spell she and Linhardt had developed during one of her past lifetimes specifically for Lysithea, forming her healing sigil with practiced care. She looked Lysithea in the eye, and sighed wearily. “Lysithea. You _have_ to be more careful. You can seriously hurt yourself if you push too hard with these tomes. Now here, this will help get your tremors under control.” She broke the sigil, pooling light in each hand, and placed the magic over the specific spots she knew would work. Lysithea’s body almost instantly stopped twitching, and she let out a sigh of relief.

Catherine and Shamir drew closer, watching carefully, but Byleth had eyes only for Lysithea. “Feel better?” Lysithea nodded, then began muttering under her breath. Byleth arched an eyebrow. “I’m sorry? I couldn’t understand what you said, Lysithea.” Unearthly pink eyes whipped up to meet hers, and Lysithea snarled out, “Why are you so much better than I am?!”

Byleth blinked. “I… What?” The white-haired mage crossed her arms and looked resolutely away from Byleth, though her initial direction had her meeting eyes with Catherine from across the way, so she ended up turning her head upwards with an almighty huff. “You’re just _so_ much better than me at every spell you try, and you know so many of them! It’s frustrating beyond belief, because no matter how much I improve there’s always more depth to you! I can’t use you as a benchmark, and when I try to push myself I end up shaking like some _weakling_ …”

Byleth’s heart broke. “Oh. Lysithea, listen… I’m your professor, it only stands to reason that I would know more than you, doesn’t it? That doesn’t reflect on you as a mage or as a person. It just means you’re still learning.” Lysithea said nothing, but did turn her head back towards Byleth. She sighed. “Look... I hate playing this card because I know how much you resent it, but… you’re young, and that does actually count here - I’ve had _years_ more life than you to learn magic.” That earned her a scoff. “Like I don’t know you’re only five years older than me. Don’t treat me like a child when you’re barely an adult yourself!”

Byleth looked away. “A lot can happen in five years, Lysithea. People can change who they are completely in five years' time…” She noticed that Catherine had completely stopped pretending to do other things, and was leaning against a nearby pillar, frowning.

“Let me tell you a story. There was a girl I knew, once. She was an incredibly talented mage, and the hardest worker I’ve ever met. Her magic could annihilate entire battalions of seasoned troops in the blink of an eye, and tear through demonic beasts like they were made of paper. She was only twenty years old, and I would easily call her the greatest mage I’ve ever known.” Byleth smiled, and thought how much that specific older Lysithea would enjoy hearing herself talked about in such glowing terms.

“But she had a... condition, and the more she pushed herself, the worse her condition hurt her. By the time she was twenty, she would end up needing several healers simultaneously using the spell I just used to stop her from seizing and throwing up blood after even a small skirmish. She confided in me, after one session like that, that she poured her everything into every battle, studied harder than anyone else, and held nothing back… because she felt like she couldn’t. She was dying. By twenty, she said she had five years left, at most.”

Lysithea paled, and stared at Byleth, enraptured. “She weighed her life against that of her friends and loved ones, and every single time she decided we were more important… And every single time, she suffered for it. In the end, we couldn’t save her…”

Byleth shook her head, and continued with a slight quiver in her voice. “That’s why I want you to be careful. You remind me of that girl so much it _hurts_. I couldn’t help her… but I can help you. So… Let me be stronger for a while, okay? Human beings only have a little time in this world, and if you burn all of it away, that’s it. I know how hard you work, and how hard you study, but you still deserve time to be a person, okay? You can surpass me later, and I’ll cheer you on.”

Lysithea shook her head. “I… I’m sorry about your friend, Professor, but… I can’t do that. I have to get stronger no matter the cost. You see… Like you friend, I also don’t have long to live, because of a certain condition of _mine_. I’m the last remaining child of House Ordelia, so I have to make sure that my parents can live comfortably, once I’m gone...” Byleth nodded. “I had suspected as much.” Lysithea’s eyes opened wide, but Byleth spoke up again before she could say anything back. 

“Do me a favor, okay? Talk to Professor Hanneman about your… condition. He’s been doing research for years now that can directly help with it.” Lysithea eyed her suspiciously for a few moments, then sighed, too exhausted to interrogate her about what exactly she knew and how she knew it. “W-well… I guess if _you_ think it’s worth my time, I’ll… I’ll consider it.” She stood up, still a little shaky, and bowed slightly before heading off.

Byleth stood from where she’d been kneeling in front of the bench, and sighed deeply. This had not been a conversation she’d expected to have right now, and it was a lot more emotionally taxing than she’d expected it to be. Unfortunately, there was no rest for the wicked, as Catherine walked forward, putting her hands on her hips. She had a very conflicted look on her face, and opened her mouth a few times without managing to get any words out. Byleth quirked an eyebrow at her. “Can I help you, Catherine?”

“Yeah, you can. I want to know why you told that girl the same story you told me.” Her voice was firm, but not yet angry… That was good, at least. Byleth turned around to face her, measuring out what she could get away with saying. “Well… I told her the same story, because she has the same… condition, as it were, that you do. Hers wasn’t done by anyone with good intentions, though.” Catherine’s eyes, which Byleth noticed had begun to take on the same unearthly sheen as Lysithea and Edelgard’s, opened wide, and she swore under her breath.

“But… She’s just a _kid_. That’s so…” Byleth nodded. “It’s cruel, and unfair, and heartbreaking… But it’s true. Now do you see why I was so insistent about you talking to Hanneman? The more people he has to work with, the faster he’ll be able to come up with a solution.” Catherine hung her head. “I had decided that I didn’t care about helping him learn how to remove someone’s crest. It’s _sacrilege_ , and if it were just my life on the line, that’s a burden I was willing to bear. But…” She shook her head, her formerly blonde hair whipping around in its ponytail. “She deserves better than this. I’ll… Damn it all, I’ll help him.”

Byleth crossed over to Catherine, and put a hand on her shoulder. Shamir watched the two of them from a short distance away, concern evident on her face. “Thank you, Catherine. Because of you, Lysithea has a chance to live a full life, like she deserves. And, you know… You deserve to live your life, as well. The only one condemning you to suffer here is you.” She squeezed a little, and Catherine looked up, locking eyes with her. “No matter what you’ve done in the past, you’re always free to cut a path to the future you choose. Please keep that in mind - there’s a lot of people around you who care about you, after all.” Her eyes flickered over to Shamir, and Byleth smiled.

“Anyway, I’ve got a meeting to get to. Let’s spar sometime, alright?” Catherine nodded wordlessly, and Byleth left the training grounds, feeling a little lighter than before.

\---

Edelgard was obviously very nervous for today’s meeting, but in that moment, she couldn’t decide whether it was being outranked by concern for Lysithea or not. She had spent the entire day grappling with a mounting dread that Byleth had told Rhea everything, so when Lysithea showed obvious signs of crest overuse in training, Edelgard had nearly cried aloud in panic. Her mind had kept her busy by swapping between imagining a very tense confrontation with Rhea in Jeralt’s packed office and imagining Lysithea’s broken form on the ground when Byleth swept into the room, half an hour after she had sent them on. Edelgard shook her fear from her mind, and pushed herself to speak. “B-- My teacher. How is Lysithea?”

Byleth sighed, obviously tired. “She’s… She pushed herself too hard. I’ve convinced her to see Hanneman, although I didn’t tip my hand explicitly about what I know. I’m sure I’ll hear more about this later, but… For now, at least, she’s safe. And what’s more, our stalwart lady knight agreed to see Hanneman for Lysithea’s sake. Overall, I’m hopeful.” Edelgard felt her worry melt away, though there was still a layer of unease underneath. Even so, she was able to force a smile, and a breathless “That’s excellent news”.

Byleth eyed her suspiciously, but with a slight shake of her head evidently decided to leave her odd behavior alone. Hubert stood up, crossing his arms. “Shall we be off, then? This meeting is likely to be quite enlightening for all of us.” Edelgard shot Hubert a look - she had not yet found time to inform Byleth of the emergency meeting Solon had called for, and she wanted to be able to tell her about it herself. Thankfully, Byleth did not take the rather obvious bait Hubert handed her, and instead spun on her heel and strode out of the room. Edelgard, Hubert, and Yuri followed after her.

As they reached the second floor landing, Byleth checked to make sure the coast was clear for them to enter Jeralt’s office, but stopped Edelgard from entering after Hubert and Yuri. She cocked an eyebrow, and leaned in close. “Them?”

Edelgard’s eyes widened involuntarily, though she slammed her neutral mask back on as fast as she could. She nodded, and Byleth sighed again, wearily. “Alright. I’ll be a little late, then. Help Jeralt keep things under control, alright?” She nodded, and slipped into the office. They were the first ones, aside from the man himself, to make it to Jeralt’s office. As she shut the door behind her, she noticed that all three of the room’s previous occupants were watching her suspiciously. She smoothed her hair, and cleared her throat. “Byleth has asked me to help keep things in order for a moment. She will be delayed slightly.” Jeralt narrowed his eyes, but said nothing. Edelgard settled against the wall in Byleth’s usual spot, nerves rising by the minute.

Macuil and Indech came soon after, followed by Hilda and Seteth. Hilda was evidently in the middle of receiving a reprimand, which Edelgard was loath to interrupt, but she did her job since it _was_ Byleth that asked. “Pardon me, but there’s going to be a little delay, today. Byleth did not explain why, but please bear with her.” The two looked up at her incredulously, then nodded. She began to drum her fingers on her arms. Another knock at the door heralded the arrival of Bereth and Flayn, and Edelgard repeated her message. Bereth looked especially uneasy as he leaned against the wall next to Edelgard, though Flayn seemed unbothered. Evidently the presence of more of her family allowed her to ignore quite a lot.

Finally, Byleth slipped into the room, looking harried. She nodded to everyone, and Edelgard moved over to her spot on one of the couches. Byleth laid a warm hand on her shoulder, and muttered “Thanks, El” as she moved into her old spot. Edelgard felt her cheeks burn, but she pushed it aside as best she could. Hilda and Flayn both noticed, as they were sitting directly across from her, and the grin on the pink-haired girl’s face portended badly, if Edelgard put any stock in her ability to predict the future.

Byleth took a deep breath, then launched into their agenda. It was mostly old news, as Rhea had not given their class any new tasks. Seteth and Bereth mentioned that the other houses were on a similarly lengthy break, which suited Edelgard just fine. Byleth introduced Indech in his disguise as Cernunnos, explaining that he was “Ethur’s brother”, and thus Flayn and Seteth’s cousin. Their web of lies was growing a bit stretched, but everyone not already in the know in the room seemed to accept it without further incident. Finally, Byleth got to the incident that Edelgard had been dreading.

“We have one important other bit of business to go over, before I open things up for any additional input from everyone. Yesterday, in order to explain the recent arrival of Cernunnos and keep our cover here intact, I… Well, I told Rhea about Sothis.” Bereth gasped, and Yuri narrowed his eyes. Jeralt swore, loudly. “Fucking hell, kid, what did she do to you?!” He was on his feet, and looked ready to start swinging, but Byleth immediately crossed the room to him and laid a hand on his arm. 

“It’s okay. She didn’t do anything, I promise. Sothis and I were able to handle her.” Seteth, who had a vaguely scandalized look on his face from Jeralt’s language in front of Flayn, sniffed loudly. “Quite so. Lady Rhea has now adopted a position that allows Byleth to operate with much, much more autonomy within the monastery. In addition, the existence of this group remains a secret.” Byleth nodded. “Thank you, Seteth. What’s more, Rhea has no idea about who I really am, what I can do, or that I’ve assembled this group to fight Those Who Slither.” A dark look crossed her face, and she snuck a glance at Edelgard.

“Unfortunately, that also means that Rhea cannot help us directly in our struggle against them. She is not aware that they are the ones behind recent events with the Western Church, nor does she have any idea of the scope of their plans. In short, she won’t hinder us, but she also can’t help us.” Sothis winked into existence in the space between the twins, a sad look on her face. “ _The archbishop is not as strong as she would like to appear… Knowing too much too soon might destroy her, and we will eventually have need of her strength to stand against the Agarthans._ ” Byleth nodded, and relayed this message to those in the room who couldn’t hear Sothis themselves.

She grimaced, then said “I _have_ convinced her to never walk the monastery unarmed, which is why I was late today. It was… difficult, to say the least. But not needing to worry about her allows us to better protect Flayn.” She smiled at the green-haired girl, who tried valiantly to return it with her usual enthusiasm despite the dour mood that had settled over the room. 

“In any event… Does anyone else have anything further to add?” Byleth looked at Edelgard expectantly, and she felt herself swallow. Steeling herself, Edelgard stood. “I do. The lack of progress on Solon’s plan to capture Flayn has him quite unsettled. He has called for another impromptu meeting. Thales has already informed him that he has no plans to attend, and informed me that I am under no circumstances to attend either, so as not to ‘lend legitimacy to this farce’. Hubert has already volunteered to spy on them, but that is not something that he can do safely with Solon this paranoid.”

She frowned, scrambling to think of actionable intelligence. “It will likely be Solon, the Death Knight, and the black knight Anacharsis… Ah, and another one who was at his side last time we met. A woman with orange hair, and a strange… tail-like set of appendages?” She looked at Byleth, hoping that her experiences would tell her who that was. 

Pure, seething hate overtook Byleth’s features, and she spat out the name “Kronya” as she balled her hands into fists. She softened slightly as she looked back at her father, who was concerned at this outburst. “She… She’s an Agarthan infiltrator that, like Thales and Solon, specializes in wearing the skin of another individual. Solon’s usual plan involves slipping her into the monastery when we rescue Flayn. She has always been disguised as Monica von Ochs, a Black Eagles student that was kidnapped by Those Who Slither at some point last year.”

Seteth paled. “What?! Ms. Ochs was… kidnapped? We assumed that the pressures of the academy were too much for her… Goddess, we _failed_ her!” Sothis floated over to him, putting a hand on his brow that he could not feel. “ _Be at peace, Cichol. You had no way of knowing, and therefore there is nothing that blaming yourself now will do._ ” He let out a shuddering sigh. Byleth shook her head, growling a little. “Worry about that later, Seteth. If Kronya is here with him, that means that not only do they have another accomplished fighter at their disposal, but a skilled assassin.”

She let her head droop a little. “If I don’t directly kill her beforehand behind closed doors, Kronya kills Father.” Edelgard’s blood ran cold. 

Jeralt’s face was impassive, but he let out a small sigh as he laid a hand on Byleth’s shoulder. “Look, By. I’m still here, okay? I… It’s got to have been hard for you, watching me die as many times as you probably have, but… Focus on the here and now.” A twinkle entered his eye. “Or do you need another lecture about distraction on the battlefield?” Byleth managed a weak laugh at that, and leaned into Jeralt for a hug. “Thanks, dad…” 

She pulled away reluctantly, sighed heavily, and focused back on Edelgard. “Sorry about that. I’m alright now. Please continue, El-- er, Edelgard.” Ignoring the blush on Byleth’s face was a monumental effort, but Edelgard found the drive within herself to do it. “Right. As I was saying, Thales will not be in attendance. That makes Solon the acting leader for this meeting, which could honestly spell complete disaster. I won’t lie - Solon has grown more and more unhinged the longer he goes without capturing Flayn. The chances of him doing something idiotic grow by the day, and my not being there means that I have no ability to inform everyone of his plans should he make them. Ideally, he is still present enough in his rational mind not to act unilaterally, but...”

Byleth nodded sharply. “That makes sense… And makes me glad that I opted to tell Rhea to keep her sword on her.” She looked up, finding Indech and Macuil’s faces. “You two need to stay armed at all times as well. Same goes for you, Seteth. We can’t rule out anything anymore, if he’s getting this agitated. As hard as this may be, please try to avoid all gathering in the same place.”

Hilda scrunched up her face. “Professor, I don’t get it. Why is this creepy Solon guy after Flayn, or any of them? Is it a Crest thing?” Byleth’s breath hitched, but she made a very quick recovery. “That’s pretty much dead on the money, Hilda. Their family has… well, suffice it to say that their blood is extremely valuable to a crazed dark mage who enjoys performing blood experiments. Flayn’s been the one who gets kidnapped because she is, comparatively, less dangerous of an opponent than Seteth. Ethur and Cernunnos aren’t usually here, either. Now that he has several targets to pick from, we need to be more broadly cautious.”

Hilda nodded slowly, then spoke again. “And Lady Rhea? Does she have special blood, too? Is she related to them?” Byleth kept her face almost completely neutral, though Edelgard could tell by the slight flare of her nostrils and the way she would not let her gaze rest anywhere for too long that she was stressed by Hilda’s unusually incisive line of questioning. 

“Rhea is the head of the church, which the Agarthans directly oppose. Any opportunity to harm her, and thus the church, has to also be considered. She’s far from helpless, but it’s better to be prepared.” Byleth let out a breath, still looking at Hilda. “Make sense?” Edelgard could see the gears turning in Hilda’s head, but to her relief the Golden Deer eventually nodded. Byleth deflated a little, and let out a quiet “Ah, good, then.”

She thought for a moment, then turned to Seteth. “I’d like to make a request that extra weapons be placed in chests in each house’s homeroom, the keys to which will be distributed to each house’s professor and house leader. If Solon tries something here at the monastery, we don’t have time to have students run to the armory, not to mention the possibility of an attack that blocks access to or destroys the armory itself. Armor is a bit trickier, but… We need the possibility of rapid response.”

Seteth hummed, then nodded. “Very well. I will personally see them installed over the next few days. Ms. Goneril, in your house leader’s absence, you will carry the key to the Golden Deer’s weapon chest.” Hilda nodded, a grave look on her face.

Byleth let out a long, slow sigh. “Alright, everyone. That about does it for today. Please stay safe out there, and please keep up with your training. I’m afraid that things are only going to get trickier from here on out.”

\---

Four days later, Bereth found himself in a familiar situation. Here he was, toiling away at this infernal time manipulation spell yet again, and there Flayn - Cethleann, rather - was, trusting him with her secret life and generally being a light in his own, otherwise rather boring one. He was so _close_ to being able to actually cast the spell, but everything he tried fizzled out mere moments after he began to channel energy into the sigil. He had checked and re-checked the schematics that Cethleann had helped him to draw, and he was as certain as he could be that they were perfect. Even Sothis herself, on her now much rarer visits to his office, couldn’t find a flaw in the design outside of the differing Crests.

That was something that, if Bereth were the type of man to brood, would give him real pause. Byleth bore the Crest of Flames, but despite being of the same flesh and blood, Bereth did not. One might say that it was due to the Crest of Flames overpowering any other Crest, but that seemed like a rather untestable idea, and still didn’t explain how he had been born with an entirely different major Crest instead. But Sothis herself finally admitted that his Crest should not be an issue… So, why then was this spell not working?

He reached for a drink. Bereth had tried to hide both his penchant for liquor and his penchant for coffee, but spending so much time with Cethleann over the last month had allowed her to ferret out both habits. He had thus far steadfastly refused to give her any alcohol, as he was still far more afraid of Seteth - Cichol? Should he call the man by his proper name in his thoughts? - than he was cowed by Cethleann’s insistent eyes and comforting presence. 

But he had not been so fortunate when it came to coffee. Cethleann had somehow convinced him to give her some a few days before Byleth’s mission to the Rhodos Coast, and he and Balthus had thus spent the entire day scrambling around the monastery after her as she flitted all over with manic energy. Seteth, rather than punishing him, simply chuckled darkly, and gave him a knowing look. Balthus… Balthus had still been around then… Bereth didn’t exactly know the large brawler all that well, but he seemed like an earnest enough man. Not having his presence at the door was disquieting, but no one seemed to know where he went. Yuri and Seteth found some other big fellow to guard the door, but it wasn’t the same.

He sighed, unstopping the bottle and setting it on his desk before reaching back behind him to grab a glass. He froze when he heard a loud sniff from behind him, then spun around. Cethleann had the bottle in hand, and was appraising the smell wafting from the open top with a wrinkled nose. “Goodness! This does not smell as though it would taste very good, Bereth.”

He chuckled, while moving around the desk to pry the bottle from her hand, if needed. “Ah, well, that’s not exactly why people drink alcohol.” Cethleann did not try to fight him as he opened his hand expectantly, but she did cock her head before handing it over. “If it does not taste good, why would you drink it? I know that alcohol has use in medicine, but that is more along the lines of disinfectant. Father never drinks, though Auntie often has days where…” A look of horror flashed onto her face, and she clapped her hands over her mouth, shaking her head fiercely.

“You must pretend you did not hear that!” 

Bereth laughed harder than he had in quite a while, and set the bottle down. Once he got his breathing back under control, and wiped the tears from his eyes, he sighed out, contentedly. “Ah, Cethleann. If I had you around all the time I would not need to drink... “ He shook his head. “It is somewhat humanizing to know that even Lady Rhea gets in her cups sometimes, though you have my word that none shall learn of it from me.” Cethleann’s face had gone a bit pinkish, but Bereth did not remark on it, as usual. She was prone to flushing for some reason, but Sothis was absolutely no help on the matter the one time he’d mentioned it, so he just assumed it was a quirk of hers.

He moved back around behind his desk to pour himself a glass, when Cethleann spoke again. “Well… Why do you drink, then?” Bereth sighed. “Ah… I’m probably not the best person to explain it… Although I’d rather your father not know I keep this in my office, so… Fine, I shall have to suffice.” He hummed, gathering his thoughts. “Well, I suppose people drink for several reasons. Oftentimes, weak alcohols like ale or beer are safer or more available than water - in Faerghus in winter, water can be hard to come by, but ale is cheap and plentiful. Sometimes too, people drink socially, either to celebrate or unwind with friends or lovers… I suppose I fall into the final category, people who drink because they’re frustrated with something, and want to feel… differently.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Feel differently how?” Bereth rubbed the back of his head, nervously. “Well… Alcohol helps take the edge off of my frustrations. It mellows me, although if I have too much I become a real mess… Er, in any event, right now I am frustrated over this spell, and wish to take the edge off. I just… Forgive me for bragging, but there is no Reason spell in existence that I cannot at least theoretically grasp. And yet, this one eludes me when there is no understandable cause! I am at a loss, Cethleann.”

Cethleann did not respond for a moment, but her eyes widened. She hummed, deep in thought, and even closed her emerald green eyes, creasing her brow. Suddenly, her features cleared completely, and she shot up from her chair, knocking it backwards. “I have it!”, she shouted gleefully. “I know what the issue is!”

Bereth blinked, processing what he’d just heard. “I… Not that I doubt you, but… How? We’ve been puzzling at it for a month together, and I’ve been stuck for far longer still… What gave you such sudden insight?” Cethleann smiled beatifically, and Bereth felt his whole being get lighter and warmer at the sight. “Why, it was you, of course! You see… You said that there is not a single _Reason_ spell that you cannot work. I believe you, but that then leaves only one possibility. This spell of Grandmother’s simply is not Reason magic, but Faith magic!”

It was… brilliant. A solution so simple that Bereth could have thought around it for a thousand years and never dreamed of it… And yet, it posed a problem.

“Ah… Well. That is wonderful news, but… I’m afraid Faith magic has always eluded me. Lady Rhea herself told me that she favored Reason magic when I was very young, and that has unfortunately colored my studies over the years.” Cethleann smiled even wider, and let out a musical laugh. “Oh, but Bereth, that’s simplicity itself! I happen to be an excellent Faith mage as well as a passable Reason mage, so I can teach you the secret to using both!”

“I… Yes, please! By all means, teach me! If this works…”

Cethleann held up a hand. “Not so fast! I am willing to help you… under one condition.” Bereth swallowed hard. “A… condition? I… Well, alright, name it. I am committed to this project.” She clapped excitedly “Oh, good! I was so hoping you would say that. Well, my condition is this: once you learn the secret to being a versatile mage and cast Grandmother’s ancient spell, you and I shall engage in the second type of drinking!”

Bereth’s face fell. “I… But… But Seteth would _kill_ me!” “ _And he’d be justified, if anything happened to you…_ ”, Bereth thought bitterly.

Cethleann shook her head. “No need to worry about that. What little time I have spent aiding Professor Manuela in the infirmary has allowed me to learn a spell that cures drunkenness, should things get that far. After we drink, we shall then go to the dining hall and get some sort of pungent fish for dinner, and that will be all the evidence erased. The perfect crime!”

Bereth sighed. “Crime indeed… But, very well. If those are your terms, I accept them. Please, teach me all that you know.”

Cethleann led him back around his desk, and the two of them sat facing each other in his office chairs. She cleared her throat, and began to speak. “Magic, as we understand it, involves our own internal energy being utilized to enact changes on the world around us. The way that the major branches go about this differs, but ultimately all stem from this basic truth. Reason and Faith are, at their core, different ways of seeing and acting upon the world. Reason magic is done with the understanding that something will occur when the caster's will acts upon magical energy, and Faith magic is done when the caster believes that something will occur without fail because of the caster applying their magical energy to something.” Bereth nodded, following along decently.

“But, you see, the healing arts cross the boundaries between the two. Faith-based healing is what everyone thinks of when healing is brought up, while Reason-based healing is rare, and less potent on living beings, but has other, unsavory uses… We typically understand it to be necromancy, and it is forbidden because of the power it grants. Not all spells cross this divide in thinking, but it is this perspective that leads to healers often becoming enlightened sages.”

Bereth was a rapt audience, and Cethleann was in rare form. “Mages often come into both ways of thinking about the world on their own, but it takes discipline to switch between them. That should not be a problem for _you_ , though. The issue with this particular spell, then, comes down to a distinction about the underlying direction of magical energy. Grandmother's magic only worked because she had supreme confidence that it _would_ work. This means that there is no way to alter the flow of time unless you have the confidence of a goddess, dictating a change unto the world and simply assuming that the world will follow along without bothering to check.”

Bereth sat there, dumbfounded. It was elegant and brilliant… And what’s more, he could make this work, too! He jumped up, and hurriedly began rifling through his desk until he found something suitable - a bunched up pair of socks he kept in his desk for occasions when he had to sleep in his office. He looked back at Cethleann to find her giving him the warmest smile he’d ever seen in his life. “I know you can do this, Bereth. I believe in you!”

Heart swelling with pride and warmth, he handed the socks to Cethleann. “Alright. I’m going to form the sigil. When you hear me say the word “will”, I want you to throw those up into the air, and I will attempt to halt their passage through time. Er, rather… I _shall_ halt their passage through time. Quite.” She nodded enthusiastically, and stepped back as far as she could in his cramped office. He drew the sigil, frowning at the size and the amount of magical energy it would require. Still, he shook those thoughts from his head, and began to empty his mind of any negativity. 

He poured power into the sigil, and cried out “By the will of the Goddess!” Cethleann threw the socks up, but the spell fizzled in his hands. “Ah… Damn. It felt different that time, but I suppose I must not have been confident enough. Let me try again.” Their positions reset, he drew the sigil again. He tried to banish his negative thoughts, but it was much more difficult after his initial failure. Then, inspiration struck like lightning. He focused his mind on Cethleann’s determination and faith in him, then poured energy in, crying out once more “By the will of the Goddess!”

This time, almost all of his magical energy was ripped from his body, and he sank to his knees. Looking up at Cethleann, he expected to see worry on her face, but was instead met with a pair of socks, floating in mid-air. They hung there for perhaps five seconds in total before they fell to the ground, and for a moment neither of them spoke. Then, they both exploded into jubilant cheers. Cethleann launched herself into an embrace around his neck, laughing joyously. “You _did_ it! You learned Grandmother’s spell! I am so proud to have been your assistant in this!”

They stayed like that for a little while, while Bereth built back up the strength to stand. He did so without warning, eliciting a yelp from Cethleann as she was dragged upwards, off her feet. He mumbled an apology, but stopped as he caught sight of a grin on her oddly flushed face. “I believe,” she began, her voice low and conspiratorial, “that you, sir, owe me a drink!”

\---

Edelgard considered her options. While it meant that she was more likely to get stopped along the way, a shortcut through the dining hall would absolutely get her to the training grounds faster than going around one of the longer routes. It was quite the pleasant Sunday afternoon, and she wanted nothing more than to spend some time cutting loose with her burgeoning magical abilities after a rather stressful week. She walked into the hall, but was almost immediately accosted by an unexpected scene.

Mercedes and Ingrid were sitting at one of the long tables. The older healer had a look of soft concern on her face, and though Ingrid’s back was to Edelgard, she could tell from her gestures that she was agitated. She was waving a piece of paper in one hand, which Edelgard surmised was the offending object. She _did_ still need to talk to Ingrid, but with Mercedes there it wasn’t as though she could be free with her words… Her brief hesitation on the spot allowed Mercedes to make eye contact with her, and to Edelgard’s surprise, she waved her over.

“Ah, hello, Edelgard! I noticed you watching us from the doorway. I do apologize for calling you over so unexpectedly, but we’re having a bit of an… issue, you might say, and I thought you might have some insight on it.” Mercedes’ ethereal voice certainly didn’t betray anything, but then, that was fairly normal for her. Edelgard nodded, and Mercedes gestured to the chair next to Ingrid. Once she sat down, Ingrid gave an almighty sigh. “Mercedes, you really ought to take this more seriously! Your adoptive father does, technically, have every right to ask this of you, just like you have every right to refuse…”

A cold pit formed in Edelgard’s stomach. “Ask what of her?”

Ingrid shook her head, and Mercedes let a small sigh of her own slip out. “Well, you see… My adoptive father is a merchant in Fhirdiad. He took my mother and I into his house when we were little more than asylum seekers living in a church in Rowe territory. He’s been so good to Mother, and I suppose he cares for me in his own way… But he’s sent this letter, you see.” She nodded to Ingrid, who reluctantly gave Edelgard the paper she had been waving. She read through it quickly, her frown growing more pronounced by the second.

“Dastard.” Mercedes giggled at her small outburst, and Ingrid looked as though she’d been promised a herd of baby pegasi to raise as she saw fit. The blonde knight barked out a triumphant laugh, then fixed Edelgard with an intense look. “So, you agree with me! There’s no way Mercedes can give up on all of her dreams just to marry some drooling courtier!” 

“WHAT?!”

Everyone at the table jumped, and looked toward the nearby door. Constance of the former House Nuvelle stood there, looking quite distinctly improper and un-ladylike as she stared toward their group. She evidently remembered her bearing, and collected herself quickly before closing the difference to their group, settling into a chair next to Mercedes.

“Forgive my outburst, but I simply _must_ know more about the matter you all were just speaking of!” Edelgard stifled a laugh, and after a look to Mercedes to make sure it was alright, she handed the letter over. Constance read it quickly, and horror began to show on her face as she finished. “But this… Surely you do not mean to follow through with this arrangement, do you?”

Mercedes sighed, and it felt like all the life had been sucked out of the room with her usual cheerful attitude. “Well… That's the problem. No matter what I decide, I'll probably be married off anyway. What I really want to do is help those in need, but I think it would be more difficult to do so if I married a nobleman… Not to mention that I don’t want to.”

All three of the other women at the table nodded, though Edelgard was the first to speak. “That’s quite understandable, and a valid concern, as well.” Constance had a dark look on her face. “It seems to me, dear Mercedes, that we must find some method to silence your father before he becomes too insistent.” Mercedes laughed softly, and put a hand on Constance’s. “Oh my… That seems a little extreme, don’t you think? Despite his shortcomings, he has been good for my mother.” Ingrid shook her head vehemently. “These proposals don’t just _go away_ , Mercedes, not when you have a Crest in Faerghus. We need to _act_!”

Mercedes fixed her with a patient look, and shook her head. “I won’t hear of it, Ingrid. No violence, or even threats of it.” Ingrid looked like she’d been slapped. She took a deep breath, and squared her shoulders. “I’m sorry, Mercedes, but I can’t just let this go. Ever since our journey to Ailell, I’ve been thinking… Even though my own father is so insistent about marrying me off for the good of our house, I can’t abandon my dreams for it. I'm not a tool for furthering my family's fortunes - I'm a knight. And you’re not a tool either.”

Constance nodded fervently. “What of our plans to become sister sages renowned the world over? If your father has his way, all of that will disappear as nothing but smoke in the wind.” Mercedes looked between the two insistent blondes, and her shoulders drooped a little. Then she fixed her gaze on Edelgard. “You’ve been awfully quiet for a bit, Edelgard. What do you think about all this?”

Edelgard sighed. She had gotten herself well and truly boxed in, but with Ingrid so unexpectedly firm in her resolve, there was no better opportunity to bring her own plans to bear, while also potentially helping Mercedes. Glancing between the three of them, she hardened her resolve.

“My views are, perhaps, among the most extreme you would be likely to find. I find myself in agreement with Ingrid, though from perhaps a… different angle. This issue is not going to disappear on its own, since you are a crest bearer. I myself… I hate crests. They have brought nothing but misery for myself, my family, and countless trusted others. In the Empire, political power is not quite so tightly tied to the presence or absence of a crest for men, but those of us women with the misfortune to be born with one have little to look forward to besides a life of being traded away as little more than breeding stock. I am somewhat of an anomaly now, given my position as heir to the throne. Even so, if my uncle had his way, I’d likely be married to Ferdinand von Aegir right now, to solidify the power structure of the Empire.”

Ingrid grimaced, and nodded. “Goddess… It’s the same for us in Faerghus, though the Kingdom treats male heirs just as badly. If you don’t have a Crest, you don’t inherit. It’s caused so much pain…”

Edelgard pounced. “May I take a moment to share my dream with you ladies? Each of you, I suspect, acutely feels the pain I have felt over crests… In truth, when I take the throne, I intend to abolish the stranglehold of the crest system. In the Empire I will shape, anyone, noble or commoner, could rise to prominence on their own merits, and crests will have little more meaning than any other quirk of birth. I will do anything I must to shape a world in which other Ingrids, Constances, Edelgards, or Mercedes could live happily, and follow their hearts…”

Constance looked at her warily. She did not fully trust Edelgard yet, though Edelgard of course knew her secret - that House Nuvelle had, for years, carried the Crest of Noa, which had been thought lost. Mercedes looked torn - likely her piety was at war with her heart, if Edelgard was any judge of people. Bracing herself, she turned to look at Ingrid, only to find an unexpected hunger in her eyes.

Edelgard sighed wearily. “My apologies. I did not mean to monopolize this conversation - we are here for Mercedes, after all, not my concerns.” Mercedes shook her head. “Nonsense, Edelgard. I am always happy to hear the concerns of a friend. And as it happens… Well, I suppose I know what you’re talking about quite well.” She sighed, looking forlornly at Constance, who wrapped an arm around her shoulders and squeezed her into a hug. The two broke apart after a few moments, and Mercedes seemed buoyed enough to begin speaking.

“I was born to the Empire’s House Martritz, but after my father died, House Martritz was no more. My mother then married Baron Bartels. He was cruel, vindictive, and mean-spirited to us, and only married Mother because she could pass on the Crest of Lamine. My half-brother was born to him about a year after we arrived, and from that time on he barely even looked at me. The both of us were expendable once Emile was born with his own Crest, and we escaped to the Kingdom in 1167. Only now, I’ve found myself in the same situation again… Far be it from me to question the Goddess, but I do find it difficult sometimes to believe that my bearing this Crest is a blessing… It’s brought all of us nothing but sadness.”

Ingrid reached across the table to take Mercedes’ hand. “Oh Goddess, Mercedes… I never knew any of that! That’s awful…” She sighed, forlornly. “You know, maybe Edelgard has a point. Imagine how much better our lives would be without these awful things. It’s like wearing a weight around your neck and being thrown into the sea.”

Mercedes smiled sadly at Ingrid, then stood up. “I think I simply must write back with a refusal. But… Constance, would you mind terribly coming with me? I’m afraid that I would not be able to muster the needed, er, force.” The dark flier’s face lit up, and she jumped to her feet. “It would be my delight and privilege, dear Mercedes! The two of us carry intertwined fates, after all. Now then, let us sally forth! We shall use my best stationery!” Mercedes shot Edelgard and Ingrid an amused (if slightly put-upon) smile, and the two of them left the dining hall.

Ingrid sighed in relief, then turned to Edelgard. “I… Thank you for being so candid, Lady Edelgard. I appreciate your words… And if I may? I sincerely hope that they were more than that.” Edelgard’s eyes widened, but she had the presence of mind to nod, at least. 

The two of them sat in silence for a moment. Ingrid spoke again, a sad look on her face. “Goddess, but I wish I could help you. If I weren’t already pledged to defend His Highness, I’d offer you my lance here and now.” Edelgard smiled. “Well… There is a way that you could help me even while serving Dimitri.” Ingrid stared at her, but said nothing. 

“I’ve talked with Sylvain and Felix over the past month or so, and found that they both feel very similarly to us about crests and their undue influence on society. I intend to talk to Dimitri myself about it, but… You three are his best friends. If all of you feel this way, that would lend that much more weight to my own words. If the Emperor of Adrestia and the King of Faerghus were able to unite with the common goal of erasing the influence of crests on Fodlan, we could change _everything_. Leicester and the church would have no recourse but to support us - we could uproot this whole damned system without spilling a single drop of blood.”

She fixed Ingrid with an intense look. “If you were serious about wishing you could pledge your lance to me, then pledge your tongue instead. Talk to Dimitri, work with Sylvain and Felix, and help me convince your soon-to-be king that this path is the correct one.” Ingrid sat silent for a moment, grappling with her thoughts. Then, finally, she broke into a smile, and nodded. “If it helps to stop any more little girls from going through what any of us have, I’d do it a thousand times over. Whatever I can do to help, you can count on me.”

\---

On the morning of the 20th of the Horsebow Moon, Byleth and Bereth were sitting together in the dining hall before their respective duties called them away. Jeralt had insisted on taking both of them there and having a good meal with them, saying that “Most of us only turn twenty-one once”. Byleth accepted the joke good-naturedly, and truth be told, she was quite content with how the day was going. Sothis floated lazily above their heads, and she basked in the warm glow of family like she had never quite allowed herself to do before.

Before long, though, the peace was shattered as Edelgard ran up to their table, out of breath. Byleth and Bereth exchanged concerned looks, and Byleth spoke up. “What’s wrong, El? Is it…?” Edelgard shook her head. “Nothing quite that dire, my teacher. We do, however, have a bit of a situation. You need to come to the homeroom right away. Dean Bereth, Captain Jeralt, you ought to come too…”

Byleth sighed, looking forlornly at her unfinished breakfast. “Okay. Let us put our things up and then we’ll head right over.” The three Eisners got up, handed over their dishes, and exchanged conspiratorial looks. They were each doubtlessly wondering what was so urgent to require all of them to be present, and yet not so urgent that it could wait on _cleanliness_. Sothis, meanwhile, had stayed with Edelgard, and she had pulled away from Byleth’s mind entirely. The five of them moved out from the dining hall shortly thereafter, but Sothis didn’t rejoin Byleth’s mind for some odd reason.

The other homerooms were deserted as they passed them by, but the Black Eagles’ door was closed. They stopped in front of the door, and Byleth felt her nerves beginning to mount. Sothis flew in through the closed door, and did not come back out. Byleth swallowed hard, and opened the door.

“SURPRISE!!!”

A cacophony of noise, cheering, and clapping greeted the three Eisners from behind the Black Eagles’ door. It seemed like every student from this year’s class, with the exclusion of Claude, was packed into the Black Eagles homeroom, and all of them were smiling and waving excitedly at Byleth and Bereth. Even Hanneman and Manuela were in attendance, which meant that the entire Officer’s Academy had come to a grinding halt for _them_. Jeralt clapped both of them on the shoulders, laughing. Bereth smiled, and moved into the room where he was instantly joined by Flayn, and a smirking Sothis.

Jeralt eyed Byleth and Edelgard with an amused expression, then shook his head and went inside to join the festivities. Byleth and Edelgard stayed outside for a moment longer, silent, but happy. Eventually, Byleth looked up at Edelgard, who was blushing. “You did all this for us?” The white-haired princess stammered a little, before clearing her throat and trying again. “Well, it was hardly just me. All of the Eagles helped, and then word spread to the Blue Lions. They’re all quite taken with you, after all. Then it was only a matter of time until the Golden Deer heard, and, well… One thing led to another. I hope this isn’t too overwhelming. I meant for it to be a small, meaningful celebration for you and Bereth…”

Byleth took Edelgard’s hand surreptitiously, and gave it a squeeze. “It’s perfect. Thank you, El. Now, come on! I don’t want to miss a moment of this.” Edelgard smiled serenely. “Neither do I, Byleth. Neither do I.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this is an appropriate amount of fluff and happiness in these trying times. It's, uh... Gonna be needed.
> 
> All I could think during the beginning of the training section was "Come on kids, hop on the bus! We're going to Thracia so you can learn how to use the capture mechanic."
> 
> Bereth is exactly the kind of man to brood, he just lacks self-awareness. This is also why he has no grasp on the fact that Flayn is flirting with him hardcore.
> 
> Ingrid makes so much sense in a Crimson Flower context, god. I hate breaking up the Best Friends Squad over in Faerghus, but if any of the three of them were going to break ranks to follow their convictions, it'd be Ingrid.
> 
> And yes, "sister sages" is a euphemism. They're gay.
> 
> And now, an excerpt from a scene that probably didn't happen for real, but is definitely real in my heart:  
> Drunk Rhea: "Loooook, listen, cmere Cethleannm... Men are trashhhh, okay? They love you, and you build them a country, and then they marry some other bitch and die... Don't get a man."  
> Flayn, with the literal patience of a saint: "Yes, Auntie. Do you want me to bring you some water?"  
> Drunk Rhea: "I'll just fuckin, fly over to the river. It's nighttime so nobody's looking... Cethleann, night water is so good. It's so... *tears up* so good....."  
> Flayn: "I know, Auntie. I'll leave some on your nightstand."


	32. The Edge of Dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things go poorly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reach for my hand,  
> I'll soar away  
> Into the dawn,  
> Oh, I wish I could stay  
> Here in cherished halls,  
> In peaceful days  
> I fear the edge of dawn,  
> Knowing time betrays
> 
> CN for violence and gore throughout basically all of the back 2/3rds.

Byleth woke bright and early on the morning of the 21st of Horsebow Moon. Her body was officially another year older, though she had stopped trying to figure out her mind’s age a long time ago. She stretched a little, then began getting ready for the day. She had received several presents over the course of the day yesterday, and felt a bit put out at the thought of picking which one to wear out. 

From her Eagles, she’d received a pendant necklace with the Adrestian eagle embossed on it in fetching white gold against a ruby backing, which she immediately decided would go on underneath everything else regardless. From the Blue Lions, she’d received a sapphire brooch with a roaring lion design in silver. She was unsure of where she would _wear_ a brooch, as her normal outfit didn’t exactly have much that needed to be fastened together. The Golden Deer had given her an ornate bracelet that was studded with emeralds, which bore a crowned deer head in gold. Her recent estrangement with Claude made her reluctant to wear it, and it would get in the way of her armor, anyway… She set those two aside, and turned to the final gift.

Flayn had surprised her with an ornate white scarf. It was incredibly lightweight, and the material was, at least to Byleth’s experienced eye, very clearly dragon scales fashioned into a thin fabric. Crests were inlaid into the white field, each a different color - Macuil’s in dull gold, Indech’s in dark grey, Cichol’s in a burnt red, and Cethleann’s in seafoam blue. Byleth suspected that those were direct contributions from the Four Saints - she even found a Crest of Seiros in a dull beige. Memories of Rhea’s dragon form swam in her mind - those scales would be from her forelimbs, if Byleth recalled correctly. But the white was, of course, from the rest of Rhea’s body… 

Sothis appeared behind her as she ran her hands over the scarf. “ _That is a precious object, Byleth. Dragonscale can turn away most weapons, magical or otherwise, and the scarf has been given some form of blessing, as well. Though I suppose it might clash with your… whatever you call that free-floating collar of yours._ ” Byleth scoffed. “The day I take fashion advice from you is the day I die for real, Sothis. But… You’re right about how precious it is. It’s far too important to leave behind in my room all day. I guess I’ll just have to make a change to my look.” Forgoing her normal collar left the armor on her shoulders rubbing into her neck, but arranging the dragonscale scarf in its place alleviated that discomfort. She tucked the ends of the scarf underneath her large medallion, and stretched and flexed to ensure she still had a full range of movement.

Sothis eyed her appraisingly, then gave a nod. “ _It suits you. Though I dare say that there are quite a few at the monastery who will be disappointed in their easy view being taken from them_.” Byleth chuckled. “I suppose you’re right, although it’s not like you’ve got room to talk. Your dress is more window than material.” Sothis clicked her tongue at Byleth. “ _I’ll have you know that this was very fashionable in my lifetime. I should know - I decided what was fashionable, after all!_ ” Byleth was about to respond very cheekily when a knock sounded from her door.

Opening it, she found Cyril waiting for her. “Oh. Good morning, Cyril. Let me guess… Rhea wants me for something?” Cyril quirked an eyebrow, but nodded. “Yep. She wants to meet ya in her office right away. Gotta go!” The young Almyran dashed off, and Byleth sighed. “Do you think we’re in trouble already? Awful early in the day.” Sothis shrugged. Byleth belted on the Sword of the Creator, smoothed her hair out, and started walking.

She knocked on Rhea’s office door a few minutes later, and the door was pulled open from the inside. Rhea stood there, smiling at her, and her smile got even wider when she saw that Byleth was wearing the scarf. “Ah, good morning, Byleth! Thank you for coming on such short notice. And may I say, you look quite fetching in Seiros white. I…” She ushered Byleth in, then shut the door. “I hope the feel is to your liking. It so happened that all of us had the materials lying around, and we wanted to do something to thank you for reuniting us all… I think it turned out quite nicely from an aesthetic standpoint. In addition, our blood gives quite potent blessings, so it should prove useful to you in combat as well.”

Byleth nodded, feeling a little unsure of herself. “Ah… Thank you. I really appreciate it. But I somehow doubt you called me here to talk fashion? Although you do get it honestly at the very least…” Rhea’s eyes widened slightly at that comment, but she pushed her curiosity aside for the moment. “Well, no, I had not sought you out specifically for that. You see… I would like to work with you in the mornings on learning to hear Mother’s voice. The others suggested that I attempt to practice with you, and perhaps attempt to talk through my feelings on the matter at the same time.” Byleth’s lips twitched as she suppressed a smile. “I’m sorry… Seteth wanted you to talk about your feelings?” 

Rhea laughed, and it lent a light feeling to the room for once. “Ah, no. That was Flayn’s idea.” Byleth nodded, then cocked her head to the side. “Wait… Why are you using their, er, assumed names? We’re alone here, after all.” Rhea sighed. “Well… It is difficult for me to switch back and forth. I typically do not do so, to lessen the chance that I misspeak before the wrong party. But, enough about that. What do you say? Do you agree to my proposal?”

Byleth thought for a moment. “Well… I guess I can play therapist for a while. Although, would you mind terribly if I left you and Sothis here for a bit? I do need to go check in with B-- Dean Bereth. He asked to see me yesterday.” Rhea thought for a moment, then sighed again.

“Byleth… Could we not be more candid with one another? After all, I was present for your birth.” Rhea grimaced slightly, before returning to her normal demeanor. “I know that he is your brother - you need not hide that from me, even if it is a bit unexpected that the two of you are aware of it. By all means, go check on him… But do hurry back, if you would? I am ever so eager to hear Mother’s voice again...” Byleth nodded, slipping out of the room and down the hall. Bereth had gotten so excited when he hissed into her ear at their birthday party about finally finishing his time magic, but she’d forced him to wait to explain all the details. It was now, finally, time to reap what she’d sown.

\---

Over the next week, Byleth and Sothis met with Rhea every single morning. They made fairly slow progress, though never none. It turned out that Rhea did not have as simple of a block as Byleth expected her to - she could always hear her own name from Sothis, but everything else came across as muffled and distant. Every time Sothis whispered her name to her, Byleth could see little goosebumps rise on Rhea’s arms. By the morning of the 28th of Horsebow Moon, Rhea was able to have conversations with Sothis directly, though she had to be very still and quiet to make out her responses. Regardless, it was more than any of them had expected.

As they left Rhea’s office to head towards the cathedral (for Flayn had simply _insisted_ that Bereth accompany her there for the monthly choir festival, and Byleth was not about to let them go unsupervised with Solon’s plot afoot), Sothis mused on the matter to Byleth. “ _It is odd. She does seem to be becoming more attuned to my voice, but she is having so much more difficulty than we anticipated. All the others, besides Edelgard, could hear me right away with no issue, and even Edelgard did not attune like this."_ Byleth shrugged, and thought back to her “ _Well, none of them had the kind of festering trauma Rhea had. She’ll come around, though. She just needs more time._ ” A wave of melancholy swept over Byleth from her mental link with Sothis, but the goddess refused to comment further. Pushing the thought aside, Byleth reached the cathedral, joining her brother and Flayn near the chapel of the Four Saints.

\---

“Oh! Hello, Professor!”

Flayn’s cheerful greeting echoed a little bit in the open space of the cathedral, earning her a disapproving look from the choir director who was attempting to corral her group of mostly underclassmen up into the choir loft. Bereth chuckled, and flashed an apologetic look towards the put-upon director, a brunette with sparkling blue eyes that Byleth realized with a small pang of guilt that she had never bothered to learn the name of. The three of them went inside the small chapel, staring up at now-familiar faces in gold. Flayn was all smiles as they sat down on one of the pews in front of her statue.

She nodded towards the statue, humming happily. “It is not a fantastic likeness, but I am told that that is simply how it must be. Even so… I do enjoy coming here. It gives me space to think about days gone by.” Flayn’s smile faltered ever so slightly, but she shook herself out of her reverie fairly quickly. “In any event,” she said, forcing them along with her in the conversation without giving them a chance to respond to her momentary flash of vulnerability, “I wanted you both here so that you could hear the wonderful acoustics! When Uncle Timotheos designed this cathedral, he did something that makes all the sound from the choir lofts pool in here. It is an incredible experience, even if some of it is a bit… Well…”

Byleth chuckled as Sothis appeared with them, looking tired. “ _Contrived? Honestly, how Seiros even came up with some of this is beyond me._ ” Flayn laughed softly. “I feel the same way, at times. It’s so odd… None of this was here when I fell asleep. Waking up to all of _this_ was shocking. But, even so… I find beauty in it.” Bereth nodded. “Knowing what I know now has… well, shaken my faith, I suppose. But I can still find comfort and succor in some of it.” Flayn patted his arm, nodding along with him. Byleth stifled a laugh, and risked looking at Sothis. This proved to be a mistake, as Sothis had screwed her face up in a noble attempt to not make a face at her granddaughter’s antics, but after they made eye contact, both her and Byleth broke and burst out laughing.

While Bereth tried, unsuccessfully, to figure out what was so funny and Flayn stammered and turned red in the face, heavy clanking footsteps drew close to the chapel. Byleth almost immediately snapped her attention to the sound, which soon revealed itself to be Alois, running up to them in a panic. “Ah, Professor, there you are! I’ve been looking all over for you! Please come with me - a situation’s come up, and we need you.” Byleth’s blood froze, and she shared a distinctly uncomfortable look with Flayn, Bereth, and Sothis. She nodded to Alois, then whispered toward Bereth as quietly as she could while still being audible: “Stay here. Protect her, and if you… If things go badly, use your new spell. Sothis will be able to sense it. In the meantime, I’ll send someone up here to guard you.” He nodded, a grim look on his face, and Byleth swept out of the chapel, Alois and Sothis in tow.

\---

As they passed underneath the iron portcullis that separated the cathedral from the rest of the monastery, Byleth nodded sharply in Alois’ direction, intending for him to start talking. Evidently this was a mannerism she’d retained from Jeralt, as he understood immediately. “Well, we’ve got reports from our air patrols of demonic beasts in the Sealed Forest. One or two isn’t all that unusual, but there’s far, far more than that. We lost a couple wyvern knights confirming that information.” His expression was pained, and Byleth swore under her breath. “Alright. Alois, listen to me very carefully. I need you, before you do anything else, to go to the graveyard. Once you get there, go to the corner near the big tree, and face the western wall. As loud as you can, I want you to yell ‘I need a fireman at the cathedral, now!’ into the wall. Then, go find Lady Rhea and Catherine. They should get to the cathedral for safety’s sake. While you’re doing that, I’m going to mobilize my students. Keep the Knights back to defend the monastery grounds - something about this smells wrong.”

If Alois didn’t understand his instructions, he didn’t show it. Instead, he snapped into a salute, and dashed off. Byleth, meanwhile, ran towards the training grounds, hoping to find at least one or two of her students along the way. Her hopes were realized as she ran into Dorothea on the lawn of the Officer’s Academy. One look at Byleth’s face snapped her into a serious attitude. Byleth quickly explained that they were mobilizing to fight demonic beasts that were encroaching on monastery grounds, and sent Dorothea off to find other Eagles. With luck, and Dorothea’s keen understanding of her fellow students’ social lives, most all of the Eagles would be assembled within fifteen minutes. Before Byleth went to check the training grounds, she pushed her mind towards Sothis. “ _I need you to find Seteth, Macuil, and Indech. Seteth needs to be in the cathedral with Flayn, but we’ll need the other two to help with the demonic beasts._ ” Sothis nodded, and shot off to find her scattered children as Byleth started running once again.

Pushing through the doors of the training grounds, Byleth quickly took stock of who was available. Ferdinand and Petra were doing synchronized form practice with lances, while Caspar was busy doing weight training with Raphael, with a slightly put-upon Dimitri hovering behind them as a spotter. Dedue loomed behind him, eyes watchful. Mercedes, Hilda, Marianne, and Hapi were talking under one of the awnings, Lysithea and Constance had their noses buried in spellbooks on a couple of the benches, Felix was busy slicing a training dummy to shreds while Sylvain lounged against a pillar, and Hubert was whispering in Edelgard’s ear near the door. Judging by the look on Edelgard’s face, he’d already gotten word about the attack, which would save her time.

Byleth whistled as loud as she was able, and began to bark out orders. “Students! There’s an emergency situation. Demonic beasts have been sighted in the Sealed Forest, and they need any available fighters to respond. Grab your gear and meet at the monastery’s northern gates in fifteen minutes! Double time!” The students started to scramble, and began to dash out of the training grounds. She stopped Edelgard and Hubert, waiting until the rest of the students cleared out before speaking. “It’s them, isn’t it?” Edelgard nodded curtly. “Most likely, yes. If there are demonic beasts in the numbers that have been reported, it could only be their doing. We’re going to have our work cut out for us... What of reinforcements?”

Byleth shook her head. “I ordered Alois to keep the Knights here. He came and found me, which means he couldn’t find Father. In his absence, the Knights need to stand their ground to protect the people at the monastery. I can’t shake the feeling that this is a diversion.” Edelgard nodded. “That makes logical sense, but this will be a tough fight with just those who were here.” Byleth took a deep breath, stretching and limbering up. “We’ll have a few more - I found Dorothea and told her to grab any other Eagles she could find. But we’ll need to be at the top of our games.” With a quick farewell, Byleth left Edelgard and Hubert to prepare, and ran to her room. Sothis rejoined her as she quickly donned some extra armor pieces, fastened on a second sword just in case she needed it, and strode over to the northern gates. Fifteen minutes after her announcement at the training grounds, Byleth set out towards the Sealed Forest with the whole of the Black Eagles, plus Dimitri, Dedue, Felix, Sylvain, Mercedes, Raphael, Hilda, and Marianne.

\---

Their group reached the Sealed Forest at noon, but since that forest had an uncanny ability to block out sunlight even in the height of summer, it seemed like they were creeping forward into the dusk. Edelgard hated going in there at all, and avoided the place if she was able… But now was not the time for her own insecurities to reign. She tightened her grip on the silver axe she’d recently picked up - a reward for herself after passing fortress knight certification - and checked her supply of hand axes. She’d had to forgo her bulkier armor today, since mobility was king in a forest and her small frame wouldn’t allow that in full plate. On the plus side, that meant she had much more room to strap extra axes on. She was packing four on each hip, which would be more than enough. Hopefully. 

Glancing around, she’d noticed a few other students had gone all-out in their preparations as well. Sylvain and Felix each had their Relics, glowing eerily in the dim light of the forest, and the latter had four swords belted onto his body. Dimitri, Sylvain, and Ferdinand had each brought a war horse, and had side bags crammed full of javelins. Dedue and Raphael were in nearly identical suits of heavy armor, though with their added height and bulk it likely would not hinder their movement like it would have done to her. Dorothea had gone above and beyond, procuring magic-boosting wands for the mages in their company. Even Byleth was carrying a second sword and extra armor. Edelgard swallowed, pushing down the fear that was clawing at her gut. Though she was no longer a tool of Those Who Slither in the Dark, she found a perverse comfort in repeating the mantra she’d used in her role as the Flame Emperor: “ _I am iron, I am flame_ …”

Their company crept forward as the unmistakable din of demonic beasts on the move reached their ears. Byleth eyed their forces, then gathered them all together. “I’m going to split us up into smaller strike teams. Watch each others’ backs, and above all do not get greedy. Demonic beasts _do not_ operate in packs normally, which makes these far more dangerous than any you may have had experience with before now. As I call your names, split off into squads.”

Byleth split them up into fairly balanced groups, all told. Edelgard, Dimitri, Ferdinand, and Sylvain were each named as captains, with three others under them. Edelgard’s group included Dedue, Caspar, and Dorothea. Dimitri’s squad was Bernadetta, Hapi, and Marianne, Ferdinand’s squad was Petra, Linhardt, and Constance, and Sylvain’s was Felix, Hilda, and Mercedes. Byleth took Hubert, Raphael, and Lysithea for her own group. Once they had split off, Byleth laid out their general tactics.

“Edelgard’s squad and mine are going to take front-line combatant roles, which is why Dedue and Raphael are coming with us. Our squads, since we’re more able to take punishment and keep going, will serve as bait. Dimitri, Ferdinand, and Sylvain’s squads will swarm onto any demonic beasts that take the bait. Dimitri, Ferdinand, and Sylvain: your squads are also going to be in charge of harrying operations while you look for opportunities to swarm. Get in and out of fights quickly, and don’t take chances that leave you open. Stay mobile, stay alert, and stay safe. Each group has a healer - this goes without saying, but protect your damn healer.”

She looked them over again, closed her eyes, and steeled herself. Edelgard got a slight nervous chill - she knew what was coming. “Finally… Please be careful. You’ve all grown since you entered the Academy, but you’re still students. _My_ students. I will not let a single one of you fall here, but don’t make that job any harder than it needs to be.” As the roars and squawks and growls of the approaching horde grew louder and louder, Byleth turned around, unsheathing the Sword of the Creator. Time seemed to slow for a brief moment, and then they were charging into the fray, all sound and fury and steel and fang.

It was _unbearably_ loud, once they got in close. Edelgard felt the reverberations from a giant draconic-looking creature’s roar in her very bones, but pushed the thought away as she and Dedue charged forward, hacking at its face and neck. It reared back, and Dorothea began to pelt its underside with Sagittae bolts. It obviously disliked that, but before it could do anything to respond, Dimitri’s squad charged in, having doubled up on his and Hapi’s mounts. Arrows, javelins, ice shards, and dark spikes tore into their target, and Edelgard took the opportunity while the beast swung its head from side to side, howling in pain, to rush forward, jump, and cleave deep into its neck with a crest-fueled strike. She cut deep into its backbone, and was rewarded for her efforts with a jet of hot, black blood spewing out at her. She attempted to dodge away before she got too covered in it, spitting and cursing as she was met with only mild success.

She chanced a look over toward Byleth’s group just as the Sword of the Creator carved an arc through a charging giant wolf. The beast stumbled, then staggered over, split cleanly in two. Edelgard’s heart leapt into her throat - how powerful _was_ this woman? Had Edelgard ever actually seen her true power before?

Looking past Byleth in a desperate attempt to clear her mind, she saw as Ferdinand and Sylvain’s groups’ coordinated efforts brought down a couple hawk beasts. Another loud screech brought her attention back to what was in front of her, and she realized a second too late that another draconic beast was charging straight forward. A strange sensation grabbed her around the navel, and she found herself emerging from a pillar of light - Constance had cast Rescue on her. She nodded in thanks, and ran back towards her group. The beast had rounded on Caspar, who was doing his best to defend Bernadetta as their position rapidly eroded. She ran, but knew in her heart it wouldn’t be fast enough, and began to call out for Sothis--

Four silver arrows buried themselves in the neck of the beast, which screeched in pain. The very air itself seemed to get heavier until an ear-shattering roar of “MJOLNIR!” cut across the battlefield. Lightning called down from the clouds above arced into the arrows, which exploded from the amount of energy being poured into them. Their explosion took a huge chunk of the beast’s neck with it, and it sank to the ground, unmoving. Edelgard whipped her head around, only to find quite the unexpected sight. Two green-haired figures were swooping through the trees on some of the monastery’s oldest, strongest, and most disagreeable wyverns. Her heart leapt for joy - Macuil and Indech had come to join the fray. Macuil held aloft a levin sword and stood tall in the stirrups, already weaving more spells from the back of his wyvern with his free hand. Indech steered his wyvern with his calves, nocking and releasing arrows at an inhuman pace. The two of them had fury in their eyes, and it was all the opportunity Edelgard needed to re-form ranks with her squad. 

They fought on for what felt like hours, though in the dim light of the Sealed Forest it was hard to tell if any time had passed at all, much less how much. All Edelgard knew was that her arms ached. She’d begun to resort to magic, and quickly found that Dark magic was far more effective on the wolves and hawks than on the draconic beasts. She dispatched another wolf with the help of Bernadetta and Indech (who had taken to guarding the younger archer's flank when he wasn’t needed by Macuil), only to look up to find Byleth running over to her with a grim look on her face.

“Damn it all, it _was_ all a diversion!”

\---

Edelgard’s eyes widened in shock. Byleth felt ready to crumble then and there, but she stayed strong - she had to. She reached out and grabbed Edelgard by the shoulders. “Sothis felt Bereth break time - it was our signal for if he got overwhelmed… I need to go back. I need to be there! Do you understand what I’m asking of you?”

Lilac eyes locked onto her own blue ones. “I… I think, but are you _sure_? I don’t think I can lead anywhere near as effectively without you.” Byleth shook her head. “Now isn’t the time for doubts, Edelgard. I’ve come back to a world where you held together an army fighting on two fronts for five whole years more times than I can count - you can do this. Divide up my group among your own and the swarm groups, and don’t push as aggressively as you did when there were two bait groups until Indech and Macuil get here.” She looked confused, which caused Byleth to hiss in annoyance. 

“Agh… sorry. That’s not… Look - I’m going to have Sothis take us back to before we came out to the Sealed Forest. I’m not joining you at the gates this time - lead everyone in my stead. I need to get to the cathedral. This was all a ruse to get Flayn, just like we thought… Please be careful.” Edelgard swallowed hard, but she nodded. “I will not let them fall, Byleth. I give you my word.” Byleth nodded, then breathed in deeply as time lurched to a halt.

Sothis appeared, worry on her face. “ _This is extremely risky, even for you. Going back this far… We’ll hardly have any ability to influence things at the cathedral if the need arises._ ” Byleth shook her head vehemently. “We don’t have any other options. I’m _not_ letting those monsters take Flayn. Not this time. We’ll just have to be careful.” Sothis sighed. “ _I know, little one. I just… Nevermind. Let us go._ ”

Time blurred before their eyes as the company of Academy students wound backwards into the monastery. Sothis stopped it just after she returned to Byleth in her room, when Byleth had belted on a second sword and added more armor to her usual few, scattered pieces. She shuddered a little, and the world trembled as time resumed. Byleth’s knees gave out, and she landed hard on her outstretched palms. “Damn… How far back was that?” Sothis shook her head weakly. “ _I… I am not sure. An hour, I think? Perhaps a little more. Please do not do that in the future._ ” Byleth managed a weak laugh. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll nag me about it if I try… But, seriously, try to rest. I doubt we’ll be throwing ourselves straight into battle again, unless things go _horribly_ wrong.” Sothis nodded, and disappeared from view.

Byleth picked herself up, and started dashing towards the cathedral. She made it inside, only to find the choir and choir director still in place, rehearsing without a care in the world. “Of all the damn…” She marched up to the director, her hand on the Sword of the Creator’s hilt. Its red glow caused the choir to go silent, and she forced her tone to even out as much as she could while maintaining urgency. “A dangerous situation has come up. You all need to evacuate to a safe area immediately. Director, please escort them out of the cathedral.” The director nodded, and began herding her charges out of the risers and out of the building. Satisfied, Byleth turned towards the chapel only to hear running footsteps approaching.

Seteth dashed towards the door to the chapel of the Four Saints, but stopped when he caught sight of her. “Byleth? W-what are you doing here? I was told you were leading troops to the Sealed Forest.” Byleth shook her head. “I did. It was a diversion. We just came back through time.” Seteth paled, but quickly nodded in acknowledgement.

“I appreciate it, then. I cannot imagine the strain that that has put upon the two of you through… But what of the enemy in the forest?” She nodded toward the door, and they walked in together, surprising Bereth and Flayn. “Oh, there’s demonic beasts, all right. Probably forty strong, though there were no more than ten of the draconic ones. Edelgard is taking care of it, and your brothers are on their way to join them as we speak.”

Flayn’s emerald eyes darted between the two of them, and she looked crestfallen. “So… They are coming for me, then?” Byleth nodded, sadly. “Yeah. Bereth let me know that the three of you had gotten overrun before, in, er, time that didn’t happen. So, I came back to stop it.” Bereth nodded, his face pale. “It is quite disconcerting to have time slip by like that without any warning. I’m glad you were able to detect my spell, at the very least. Goddess only knows what would have happened otherwise… I think they were about to take both of them.”

Sothis finally perked up, reappearing next to Byleth. “ _Indeed I do, and you would prefer not to, little one. Now then… Cichol, you need to stay here and cast a shield around yourself, Bereth, and Cethleann. Byleth and I will fend off any comers._ ” Seteth set his face into a hard scowl, and nodded. “Very well. My shielding magic was never as impressive as yours, but I shall do as you ask.”

Byleth frowned. “What about Rhea? I told Alois to send her here, along with Catherine. And Yuri should have shown up, too...” Bereth shrugged. “By the time they were upon us, we didn’t have time to look for them. It was barely a fight, truth be told…” Byleth swore under her breath again. “How many are we expecting?” Bereth sighed wearily. “Only four, but it is the worst four it could have been. Solon himself led the assault, but the Death Knight and your black knight were also there, along with the one that… that kills Father. They incapacitated Seteth in an ambush, and though I tried my best to hold them off, I am a scholar, not a warrior.” 

Byleth digested this information. “I… see. Alright. Well… Seteth, go ahead and get your shield up. Can you hold it for a while?” He hummed, thinking. “I can sustain it for the better part of half a day if it does not sustain damage, and… well, long enough under duress, if you can keep their focus off of it.” She nodded. “That’ll have to work then. Cast it. I’ll stand guard. Hopefully I can hold out until reinforcements arrive.” She unsheathed the Sword of the Creator, and turned it point down into the floor of the cathedral so she could lean on it.

\---

She did not have to wait long, though. Solon, Kronya, Jeritza, and Anacharsis appeared from columns of light in the middle of the cathedral a scant hour after Byleth began her vigil. It was decidedly not enough time for her to chase her weariness away, though she felt quite a bit stronger than she had expected to. Her mind flickered to the blessed scarf she was wearing, but there was no time to truly consider it. Solon strode forward, inspecting her with a look of pure disdain on his face. “Ah… So this is the meddler, then? Dispose of her. She has already disrupted our plans enough.”

Anacharsis and Jeritza both strode forward. Jeritza had a distinct height advantage to her, being mounted, but she hoped that their last fight had instilled a healthy fear of the Sword of the Creator in him. She took it up, flourishing it as she got into a fighting stance. “If you want to throw your lives away for a cowardly toad like him, be my guest. The Sword of the Creator will have blood today.” Oddly, Kronya had not moved. Byleth guessed that she must be there to guard Solon from unexpected attacks - a good plan, though it wouldn’t be enough if she had anything to say about it.

To her surprise, Jeritza backed off. “I shall watch, for now. Your blood debt was first. Do not make me wait for long…” Anacharsis laughed, the hollow, scraping tone of his modulated voice echoing off the stone of the cathedral. “Very well, Sir Knight. I hope you aren’t afraid of her after your little beating last time. As for me… I’ve been waiting for this.” He unsheathed his khopesh, rolled his neck, then dove forward. 

His unusual sword posed a unique problem - Byleth had seen, in her dreams, how Seiros stopped Nemesis’ strike with the Sword of the Creator’s whip-blade by curling it around her own sword, and she did not doubt that Anacharsis would be looking for any opportunity to separate her from it in the same manner. Because of that, she was forced to meet his charge head on, locking blades briefly before breaking away and exchanging blows in a quick flurry. Anacharsis had not slacked on his own training, though Byleth’s body was quite a bit faster and stronger than when they last fought.

She pushed him back slowly, though she kept herself between Solon and Seteth’s shielding spell. Finally, the moment she’d been dreading arrived as Jeritza lost his battle of wills to his bloodlust. “Try to kill me with that blade of yours, wretch!” He charged forward on his black destrier, swinging his scythe wildly. Anacharsis jumped aside with a curse, and Byleth parried Jeritza’s blow with practiced ease. Anacharsis rallied, though, and darted in to strike at her flank. With a snarl, Byleth pulled free her second blade, a simple steel sword, and dodged backwards. With two swords, she would be able to block and parry both, but her effective power had been cut in half. 

She whirled towards Anacharsis like a tornado of steel and bone, forcing him back again, before quickly changing course to harass Jeritza’s horse. He had learned from last time - the beast was much more armored, but it was no match for the Sword of the Creator’s superior power, which found purchase in one of its legs. It screeched and attempted to run off, collapsing a little bit away from the battle. Jeritza rolled free of the saddle, his breathing ragged and heavy. “More… Give me _more_!”, he demanded. As the two of them advanced on her again, Byleth breathed in, preparing to call on the Crest of Flames to attempt to strike one of them down more permanently…

“Well, well, look at you. Mind if I cut in?”

A voice spoke from a flash of light to her left - it was all the confirmation she needed. “About damn time, Yuri. You take the Death Knight. The other one’s mine.” The purple-haired trickster chuckled, and pulled out an ancient-looking sword. It had a wide, golden hilt and a pure white blade, and in Yuri’s hands it danced through the air like a dream. He jumped and slashed into Jeritza’s defenses, whose obvious dissatisfaction at losing Byleth as an opponent melted away instantly under the ferocity of Yuri’s swordplay. The two of them were locked in pitched battle, and as long as Sothis kept an eye on him, there wouldn’t be any trouble. Byleth smiled cockily at Anacharsis, flourishing the Sword of the Creator again. 

The black knight laughed again. “So what if more little beasts have come to play? I shall bleed you all before the day is done.” He spun towards her, hacking and slashing quicker than before, and Byleth adjusted her stance to parry him. Sothis cried out in her mind a moment too late - a burning pain pierced Byleth’s lower back, and she turned her head only to spot Kronya grinning wickedly from behind her, her cursed dagger Athame buried in Byleth’s unguarded flank. In a fit of rage, she ripped time backwards, not listening as Anacharsis made the same threat again. She built up energy in her off hand, then spun on her heel just as Kronya darted forward. The grin on her face quickly turned to shock, and Byleth pressed her hand into Kronya’s open chest before releasing a devastating Aura.

The Agarthan assassin was blasted backwards, her chest and face seared by the point-blank Light magic. She landed in a crumpled heap, and did not stir. Byleth smirked. “One down.”

Her joy was short-lived, however, as Yuri cried out in pain - the Death Knight’s scythe had found a little purchase, though not enough to kill. Still, he sported a wicked cut down the length of his right arm, which now hung uselessly by his side. Worse still, his sword had gotten knocked away, which meant all he could do was dodge backwards. Before she could turn to aid him, Anacharsis closed the gap, pressing her defenses at blazing speed. Byleth reached for a Divine Pulse--

An incredibly large pillar of light shot downwards, striking Jeritza in the chestplate and sending him sprawling. Byleth took the opportunity to fire off another Aura to force Anacharsis to give her room, and turned her head to look for Yuri’s rescuer. There, standing framed against the sunlight streaming through the portcullis and open gates, was Rhea. The Sword and Shield of Seiros were in her hands, and her eyes burned with righteous anger. Catherine was next to her, looking every bit as imposing as she held Thunderbrand aloft, its blade glowing bright red.

\---

Rhea ran towards the cathedral. The tell-tale sounds of combat echoed out ahead of her, and she cursed herself for her carelessness. She saw a distant red glow, and her blood grew cold - Byleth was fighting in the cathedral. Her lax security had allowed wolves into this sanctuary for the broken-- “ _And Byleth is going to pay the price, just like Sitri_ ”, her mind whispered venomously to her. She kept running. Catherine, ever faithful, ever loyal, was a step behind her. Even after she had altered Catherine, she still fought zealously - “ _A zeal and devotion you do not deserve, wretch_ ” - and Rhea could not be more grateful. 

But there was no time. A shock of purple hair ahead alerted her to Yuri’s presence - to her horror, her spymaster was in single combat with a figure that could only be the infamous Death Knight. He cried out in pain as the Death Knight landed a blow on his arm, his sword - was that the Mercurius? - clattering to the ground as he fell back, dodging for his life. She crossed the threshold, building magic in her left hand. As the Death Knight moved forward to strike a killing blow, she unleashed Agnea’s Arrow, striking him down and throwing his wicked body against the stone floor. Another flash of light caught her eye as an Aura blasted the figure Byleth had been in combat with away - Byleth could cast Aura? - and she finally made eye contact with the brave woman protecting Rhea’s only family left in this world.

She stood still in the entryway, taking quick stock of the situation. A woman with eerily pale skin and fiery hair lay in a heap on the ground, her open armor revealing a severely burned chest and neck. The Death Knight sputtered and struggled to rise, and in the time his delay had afforded, Yuri had snatched up the Mercurius again, though he clearly now wielded it in a hand that was not his dominant sword-hand as his right arm hung uselessly at his side. Byleth and the other figure, a swordsman clad head to toe in black armor, were clashing once again, though Rhea did not recognize the strange curved sword the other warrior used. Lastly, an old man with the same eerie white skin as the woman on the ground stood in the center of the cathedral, watching her with a look of pure disdain in his mismatched, horrid, dead eyes. His eyes were… 

_Smoke. Screams. Death. Brothers and sisters screaming for aid that never came. Cruel men stalking forward with blood on their lips. Wicked, arrogant men, led by those who had been arrogant enough to dare to defy Mother… Their leader, hurling an abomination of Mother’s own bones towards her. Falling._

Catherine’s hand on her arm shook Rhea from her thoughts. She was breathing heavily, and her knuckles were white on the grip of her flamberge. She let out a long, shaky breath, trying desperately to calm her mind. She looked, at last, past Byleth. A shimmering golden barrier blocked the way to the chapel of the Four Saints, and she could see Seteth, his hands raised and brow furrowed, maintaining the arcane shield. If Seteth was there, that meant Flayn was there too. Warmth pierced her heart, and she found her voice once more.

“Wicked servants of an arrogant and dead race, leave this place immediately, or suffer the wrath of the Goddess once more!” Her voice boomed imperiously throughout the deserted cathedral, but it was no longer the serene voice she affected as the archbishop. It was _her_ voice, the voice of Seiros the warrior-prophetess. She roared out a battle cry, and darted forward towards the unmoving man who was _surely_ behind all of this. Catherine lagged behind her by but a step - soon their blades would pierce the wicked Agarthan’s heart, spilling his black blood on this holy ground--

Pain erupted from her chest. Disbelievingly, she looked down to find a pale ball of dark magic boring its way through her. It threw her backwards, and a cry of pain from her side indicated that Catherine had been targeted as well. She hadn’t even seen him _move_ \- was she that out of practice?

She roared out a battle cry, and darted forward towards the unmoving man who was _surely_ behind all of this. Catherine lagged behind her by but a step - soon their blades would pierce the wicked Agarthan’s heart-- wait, what? She came to a halt, too late. Once again, pain erupted from her chest. She watched the wizened Agarthan’s face twist into confusion at her sudden change in movement, but it was too late...

She roared out a battle cry, and darted forward-- no! She stopped quickly, raising the Shield of Seiros as a flicker of movement from the Agarthan signaled dark magic working its way over towards herself and Catherine. Striking out blindly, she caught both pale spheres on her shield, hurling them away from her. They obliterated one of the grand pillars, and Rhea swore in rage.

Even so… How had she managed that feat? Thrice now, she had experienced looping actions, and twice escaped what should have been a fatal wound because of it… With a start, it hit her. _Mother_. Byleth and Sothis were aiding her, even as Byleth fought against a desperately strong opponent. She grimaced as she watched her battle - Byleth had begun to slow, and her strikes lacked power compared to when Rhea had first arrived.

Byleth whirled around, striking and parrying with far more skill than a mercenary of only twenty-one years should have been able to… But it was ultimately not enough. She screamed out as she watched the black knight’s blade pierce Byleth’s abdomen. A strangled cry from Sothis joined hers in the air, and a flash of green hovered over Byleth. Mother and daughter’s distraught cries were drowned out by _laughter_ ; the wicked Agarthan man had the nerve to laugh as her own--

She blinked. Green?

She looked again, harder, and sank to the floor as the world lurched to a halt. “ _Mother_.”

\---

Byleth was flagging, fast. She was relying heavily on the Crest of Flames - those Divine Pulses had exhausted her, and she was vaguely aware of Sothis trying to talk to her. No doubt to tell her she was running low, as if that weren’t abundantly obvious. Parry, riposte, cut… Her movements were sluggish, her form sloppy. Anacharsis pressed his advantage, though he was - “ _...leth!_ ” - clearly _toying_ with her. She whirled around, attempting to feint past his guard, only for incredible pain to burst forth in her abdomen. She looked down in disbelief as his sword pierced deep into her stomach. There was no battlefield healing magic for this. She would have to Pulse it one more time… “ _Byleth_!”

The urgency in Sothis’ voice caused her to look up, as time lurched to a halt.

She let out an exhausted sigh. “I… I don’t know about this one, Sothis. If… If we could Pulse back far enough to before Rhea gets here, we might be able to warn her about Solon’s magical attacks, and then she and Catherine could--”

Sothis shook her head, sadly. “ _No, Byleth. We can’t. There is no strategy in this anymore. You have but one Divine Pulse left, and your strength is already nearly gone. What good will going back do you if it heals your opponents’ wounds?_ ” Byleth growled in annoyance. “Then what do you suggest we do, Sothis? We can’t let them take Flayn! I won’t let them kill Yuri, or Rhea, or even Catherine. We’re out of good options!”

Sothis floated there, her face blank. “ _There is one good option left to us that will allow us to rescue Cethleann, and to defend all those your heart holds dear. You know what I speak of_.” Horror bloomed in Byleth’s chest. “No. No! You… We can’t! I can’t lose you, not yet!” Sothis shook her head. “ _You yourself said that you would not allow harm to come to any in this room. If you are serious, there are two ways to accomplish that, though only one that moves forward. The first involves your death, and the end of this lifetime. You will go back, and none of this will happen. We can try again, but you_ know _the risks involved. Bereth may not exist in the next life. Edelgard might not be able to see me in the next life. You and I both know in our hearts that_ this _is the lifetime where things will finally go right… Are you truly willing to give up on it?_ ”

Byleth hung her head. “I…”

Sothis floated over to Byleth, and mimed putting her forehead against Byleth’s. “ _Then, there is the other option. You and I must join as one. With the full power you can wield, it would be child’s play to destroy these brazen fools, and save everyone. You know that I am right_.”

Tears welled up in Byleth’s eyes. “But… But this was supposed to be the time where everything went right… How can this be a perfect world without you in it? I… I can’t bear the thought of finally finding our perfect world after so long without you, Sothis.”

Sothis smiled sadly at her. “ _Little one… You and I always do this. The path to happiness lies on the other side of sadness. It has come early this time, but it was always destined to come. Though… I admit, I_ was _really getting to like this world. You’ve brought so much joy into it, and you reunited my children... I will be forever grateful for that. But… If it means protecting them, I am willing to do whatever it takes. And I know that you are, as well._ ”

Byleth shook her head, tears flying away from the movement. “I… Why does it always have to be this way? Every time we do this, a part of my soul dies along with you... You drive me crazy, but I love you so much, Sothis. Why can’t you enjoy the happiness we’re building together, with me?” Sothis laughed, softly. “ _Oh, you love me, do you? Then dry your tears. This is not goodbye. You know that... I may not be able to appear before you again, but my soul is eternally bound to yours._ ”

She smiled, then flew a few paces away from Byleth. She breathed in deeply, then locked eyes with her.

“ _There is no more need for words. I know your heart as though it were my own, after all… Your will and mine are now as one. Both sides of time are revealed to you, and you alone. Now, go. Save my children. Save your loved ones. And if this truly is our final lifetime, then I am proud to have lived it, and all others before it, with you._ ”

Sothis moved forward, reaching out her hand. Byleth stretched out her own, but as their hands would have met, Sothis began to fade away. The echoes of her form passed into Byleth’s body, and she lowered her hand, grasping the sword piercing her abdomen. The world lurched, and an impossibly bright, golden light consumed Byleth. She ripped the khopesh from her body sideways and out of the grip of Anacharsis, crying out as **_power_ **flowed into her body. It felt as though she would burst, and she raised a hand to Anacharsis’ shocked face. A divine Aura tore through armor and flesh, hurling him into the stone wall in the antechamber that housed the entrance to the Holy Mausoleum.

Byleth rounded on Solon, feeling her true power surge into the Sublime Sword of the Creator. She shot it forward as the Agarthan dark mage cried out “The Fell Star?! How can it be?!”, slicing into his left shoulder and lopping his arm off. He screamed in pain, his black blood slopping onto the floor. He stumbled to the ground as she stalked towards him, all fury and rage and unabating sadness in her heart. He pressed his remaining hand into Kronya’s fallen form as he shuffled backwards along the ground. 

Byleth raised her sword over her head, crying aloud “For Sothis!”, but just as her blow was to connect, Solon grinned up at her, and vanished along with Kronya in a column of light. Her blow carved a deep gash into the cathedral floor, and she howled with rage. She sank to her knees, cursing Solon as she began to weep, bitterly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry.
> 
> \---
> 
> The scarf was made from discarded scales that the Saints already had, not from scales from a fresh transformation - Seteth and Flayn can't fully transform anymore anyway, so that would be impossible. I got the idea of manaketes being serial hoarders of their own scales from Nowi and Gregor's supports in Awakening, and just... extended that timeline a bit. Every one of them has a stash, and Rhea's is much larger because she got to use her dragon form during the War of Heroes as a divine avatar. If Flayn's dragon form had been the Immaculate One instead, the scarf would have been blue - it's just down to how often the Immaculate One got to run wild and free. The scarf's blessing gives Byleth passive wound regeneration. It's not anything as fast as, say, Wolverine's healing factor, but her wounds will close over and begin to heal while she rests. Think of it as a miniaturized restorative slumber. She might need that, given the state of her at the end.
> 
> Macuil is remembered as the master tactician for Seiros' army during the War of Heroes, and his statue very clearly depicts a warlock with a sword - I couldn't *not* have him show up and both ape and completely outclass Robin's whole schtick, now could I?
> 
> Now is as good a time as any to flesh out what people who remember past Byleth rewinding time do and do not retain. To use Edelgard as an example, she has all her memories of the battle in the Sealed Forest when she leads the other students out there for the second time, but unlike Byleth, she does not feel the physical or mental stress. That is solely something Byleth carries, since she's the lucky one who's playing host to Sothis' Crest Stone. The only time that rewinding time allows someone other than Byleth to carry over something more than memory is when injuries are in play. Even then, the physical damage does not remain, just the psychological impact of the wound (think back to the battle on the Magdred Way, where Edelgard caught an arrow in the neck, and how that phantom pain bothered her for a while afterwards, even after rewinding time). A hardened warrior like Seiros can shrug off pain like it's nothing.


	33. In Time's Flow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth, Rhea, and Bereth deal with the aftermath of the battle in the cathedral, and Byleth and Edelgard have rather odd experiences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CN for substance abuse, but like... in a wholesome way? Kind of? You'll see.

What little light there was was dim, radiating out in blues and greens from strange crystals set into wrought iron stems. Byleth looked around, confused - this was surely the Holy Tomb, but how…

Pain, fear, and sadness pierced through her all at once. _Sothis was gone_.

But then, why was she here? She hadn’t seen anyone else, though there was a soft, scratchy sound somewhere on the other side of the tomb. Looking downwards, Byleth was surprised to see nothing - she had no body at all. This must be a dream, then… But why dream of the Holy Tomb? She tried to move, and was surprised to find that she could do so simply by concentrating her mind. She slid down the western stairwell, slipping past row upon row of coffins. Sothis’ slain children rested within, reduced to nothing more than their stone hearts. The sound from before got louder, ever so slightly.

Intrigued, she tried to follow the sound. It was coming from the eastern side of the Tomb, near the grand staircase that led up to the dais where Sothis always waited… She pushed that thought aside before the pain grew any larger, concentrating on her quarry. She did not have to search for long.

Before her was a woman of unearthly beauty. She seemed somewhat tall, though Byleth realized that she didn’t exactly have a good frame of reference while incorporeal. She wore a plain, white gown, with a green and gold shawl around her shoulders. A noticeable bump swelled from her midsection - this woman was _very_ pregnant. Her face was soft and kind… Familiar, too. Strangely familiar…

Byleth realized with a start that the woman before her had _her_ face. Unbidden, Macuil’s words flooded back to her. “ _Were your hair and eyes a different color, you could have been her twin, you know. It is… unsettling._ ” She took in the green color of her hair, so similar to her own during the war to come, yet darker… Just like Sothis’. A single white lily was placed in her hair, just above her left ear.

The woman held a simple wooden broom in her hand, and she was humming tunelessly to herself as she swept. Her face betrayed worry and concern, and Byleth marveled at how expressive a face so similar to her own could look. She didn’t spend much time looking at herself in the mirror that wasn’t completely practical in nature, so this experience was brand new to her. Suddenly, the woman let out a quiet gasp, turning toward the base of the stairs that led to the throne.

She quickly leaned her broom against a pillar, and swept forward. A soft, cooing noise reached Byleth now, and she followed in the wake of the woman. They stopped right before the stairs, taking in a bizarre sight. A baby, swaddled tightly in white cloth, lay all by itself on the bottom step. A flood of emotions swept across the woman’s face. “Oh my. I wonder how _you_ got in here…” 

The baby was asleep, thankfully, but Byleth had no concept of how or why a baby would be in the Holy Tomb. A shock of blue hair poked out from around the cloth, but before Byleth could grapple with what _that_ could mean, the woman bent down and gently plucked the sleeping infant from the stair where it laid. Cradling it gently, the woman smiled. In a voice little more than a whisper, the woman spoke to the baby: “I know that it is most rude to interrupt a moment of repose, but I hope you can forgive me. I simply wished to have a look at you.” 

The woman looked around, as if she expected to find someone ducking behind a pillar, watching as their baby was taken from them. When no one turned up, the woman sighed. “Well then, little one… I suppose I shall have to look after you myself.” She hummed to herself, clearly thinking. “You must have a name, though. I suppose I shall call you…”

\---

Pain radiated from her side as Byleth woke up. The pain got ten times worse as she tried, unsuccessfully, to sit up, and she gasped from the sensation. Movement was clearly out of the question, then. Taking stock of her situation, she found that she was laying somewhere impossibly soft, and that wherever she was was quite quiet. She was covered in sweat, and some annoying green thing was obscuring her vision. She tried to brush it aside, but froze as she realized it was her hair. Her hair was green, now.

 _Sothis_ …

Tears welled up in Byleth’s eyes, and she felt them start to slip down her face as if they had minds of their own. A dam within her crumbled, and she wept, no longer caring about where she was or how she’d gotten there. Sothis was gone. She surrendered to her grief, and let the sadness carry her off to sleep.

She awoke sometime later, though it was impossible to tell exactly how much later. The windows in the room let in streams of orange light, which did confirm that it was late afternoon, or early evening… But of what day? How long had she slept before waking up the first time, and how long had it been since she fell asleep again?

Glancing downward at her body, she noticed that she wasn’t wearing her regular clothes, much less her armor. Instead, she was in a plain, white gown, lying on top of a soft comforter on an even softer bed. She felt cleaner than last time - given her new garb, perhaps someone had bathed her? While it wasn’t the most comforting thought, she was obviously being cared for by someone.

She tried once again to sit up, though this time was much more cautious. She let out a hiss as the pain flared up again, and all of a sudden soft hands pressed down on her shoulders. Looking up, she locked eyes with a green-haired, green-eyed woman - Rhea.

“Easy... You must remain still. Even if your body had not been injured, you would still not be in any condition to move. Please relax. You’re safe now...” Byleth’s mind flashed back to the moment of Sothis’ disappearance, and her own apotheosis. She winced as she realized that she had torn out the sword that had impaled her _very_ roughly - a weapon with a curve and hook designed explicitly to hurt anyone attempting to remove it from their flesh.

She pushed her energy towards forming words. “I… Where am I?” Her throat was very rough. After determining that Byleth wasn’t going to try to bolt upright, Rhea removed her hands, leaning back a little into a nearby chair. “You are in my chambers. I have been tending to your wounds since the battle in the cathedral.”

Byleth’s eyes widened, and she turned her head to look at Rhea directly. There were dark circles under her eyes, which mixed poorly with their reddened, puffy appearance. Her headdress was nowhere to be found, and she had gathered her hair into a single braid, which she wore down her right shoulder. Byleth glanced at her normally covered ears, which were, of course, every bit as pointed as her mother’s and siblings’. A wide smile appeared on Rhea’s face. “Seeing as you have… well. I thought you might enjoy seeing a more familiar side of me. You remember, don’t you? This was how I looked, in our idyllic days in Zanado… When all knew me by a different name...”

“Rhea...” Byleth whispered. Rhea stiffened, and a look of shock broke onto her face. “I’m sorry… I’m not who you hoped that I was. It’s still just Byleth.” Shock turned to horror as Rhea’s eyes widened, and she held very still. “You mean…” Byleth nodded, tears welling up in her eyes. “I’m sorry, Rhea. Sothis is gone.”

They rested in uneasy silence for a while. Rhea began to sing softly to herself, and Byleth recognized the tune instantly as Sothis’ song. Tears spilled down Rhea’s face freely, and her eyes glassed over. She began to rock back and forth in her chair ever so slightly. Pity welled up in Byleth’s chest, and in a desperate bid to distract Rhea from her overwhelming grief, she blurted out “I had a dream about her while I was unconscious.”

Rhea’s singing stopped instantly. An intense look crept onto her face, though she was doing an admirable job at not giving off her usual, hungry aura that came up when Byleth was involved. “I… see. Would you… Would you tell me about it?”

Byleth recounted her odd dream, watching Rhea’s face carefully. She was obviously trying very hard to keep a neutral mask over her emotions, but as Byleth described the woman who could only be Sothis, the corners of Rhea’s mouth quirked upwards. This half smile faded instantly when she described how Sothis found a child. When she finished, they were silent for a little while. Byleth shook her head, still quite confused. “I don’t understand why she was pregnant in my dream. I always knew that she was a mother. After all, she was the Progenitor Goddess… But, it’s so strange that she wasn’t a little girl like usual, much less...”

Rhea looked away, sighing deeply, and Byleth kicked herself internally. “I… I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have--” “It is… It’s quite alright, Byleth. If anything, you have confirmed something that I had been wondering about since the day of the battle…”

Rhea stood, and moved up to the foot of her bed. She sank down on the bed, her back to Byleth. The archbishop’s shoulders started to shake, but she had excellent control over her tone even while clearly near or at her breaking point. “I… In the moment of your… When it…” She sighed in frustration. “Just before your change occurred, I thought I saw someone else near you. At first, my mind rationalized it as my being exhausted, and deeply worried for you, and for Flayn. After all, how could I have seen a child with hair and eyes of shining green if it were not her?”

“But now, I… I know that I saw Mother, in her final moments in the waking world. I…” She began to sniffle, and her shoulders shook even harder. “I _saw_ her, Byleth… I wasn’t being punished, after all… She looked at me, just before she disappeared, and she smiled at me... Oh, stars… Mother…”

Rhea wept only a few feet from her - Byleth _had_ to do something, didn’t she? Determined to try to help her, she pressed one hand against her wounded side, and carefully maneuvered her way up into a sitting position. It hurt a lot, but Byleth was focused on her objective. She pushed forward, and meant to lay a comforting hand on Rhea’s shoulder. Unfortunately, she grossly overestimated her body’s strength at the moment, and collapsed forward into Rhea’s back. The archbishop gasped in surprise at the sudden weight on her, and Byleth hissed in pain. Rhea turned her head to try to look at Byleth, and smiled weakly at her.

“You always were a sweet child… But you need to rest. Please.” Byleth shook her head resolutely. “I can rest later. You’re hurting.” She pulled herself into a sitting position behind Rhea, leaning against her back as much for Rhea’s physical support as for Byleth’s emotional support.

Rhea shook her head. “I have hurt far worse for far longer. This is… I believe the term for it is ‘catharsis’... Even as I weep here for what I have lost, I build a stronger foundation from which to live the rest of my life.”

Byleth scoffed softly. “Rhea… I know you try to carry yourself as a wise, benevolent spiritual leader… But that’s bullshit, and you know it.” Rhea gasped, but after a moment, she let out a heavy sigh, and let her smile fade. Turning her body so that she could look at Byleth, she said “I suppose being bonded with Mother gave you quite a bit of insight into the hearts of others.”

Byleth let out a mirthless laugh. “She would have said that I have quite a bit too much of it, but only when it doesn’t help…” Shaking herself from those kinds of thoughts, Byleth quickly changed tack. “Rhea… Before we talk more about Sothis… I need to know what happened while I was asleep. How long was I out? Are my students safe? What happened to the Death Knight and the black knight that I was fighting?”

Rhea huffed softly, but nodded. “Yes. I… I suppose you should at least know what has gone on in your absence. Well… Today is the 2nd of the Wyvern Moon. You slept for three days… A testament to the effectiveness of your changes.” Byleth nodded, cursing herself for her carelessness. She could have been up and about if she hadn’t torn a sword out of herself in the most violent way possible…

“Your students are all, thankfully, safe. All those who fought in the battle are, including our mutual friend, Yuri. Macuil and Indech told me of the masterful tactics and leadership young Edelgard displayed as she led not only her own house, but a share of the other two as well, against the beasts in the Sealed Forest. You have taught her very well, my dear.” Byleth let out a sigh of relief, her body releasing tension she hadn’t even realized it had held. “Thank the goddess…” 

Rhea cocked an eyebrow at that statement. “I… Sorry. It’s something I picked up from Jeralt. Sothis always used to tease me about it…”

Rhea sighed deeply. “I see… Before, you spoke of her as if you knew her heart. Yet, from what information I was able to get from Flayn, she said that Mother only awakened within you in the Great Tree Moon. How is it, then, that--”

Byleth shook her head. “Rhea, please. The Death Knight and black knight? I’ll answer your question, but…” Rhea huffed again, sounding almost as if she were pouting. “Very well… Those two have been taken into custody, and placed within the most secure cells in Garreg Mach. You may be surprised to know that the Death Knight’s true identity was--”

“Jeritza. I know. I dare say I know quite a lot more about him than you do… But that’s a story for another time.” She rubbed her temples. “I’ll need to interrogate both of them when I’m able to walk around without pain.” 

Rhea frowned, and stiffened against her. “That is hardly something that I can agree to, Byleth. They are dangerous foes, and--” “And nothing, Rhea. As I am now, I could kill them without breaking a sweat. I’m not afraid of them. I do, however, need answers from them. This isn’t up for debate.”

Rhea bristled. “Do not _presume_ , Byleth Eisner, that simply because you housed my Mother for so long you can _order me_ to do anything.” Byleth breathed in deeply, trying to calm her voice. “You presume yourself, _Seiros_. I am Sothis now, and Sothis is me. Our souls, our minds, our hearts… They are now as one. If you want any more answers from me, you’ll agree to this.” 

The two were silent for a while, locked in a battle of wills that was draining Byleth’s scant energy by the moment. Then, from outside Rhea’s doors, Byleth heard shouting. She tensed, but given that Rhea did not react in any meaningful way, she did not immediately attempt to stand to defend herself - or at least, as close as she could get to that motion. Rhea clicked her tongue, shaking her head slightly. “I do not know what you have done to inspire such devotion from your house leader, but she has been quite insistent about seeing you. I have had to post one of my brothers to stand guard at all hours.”

Byleth’s heart warmed. “El…”, she whispered to herself. Rhea quirked an eyebrow up, but said nothing. “I… May I see her?” Rhea shook her head, though the anger from earlier had been replaced with a much more neutral expression. “You need to rest.” Byleth scrambled for a way to see Edelgard. Then--

“With Edelgard here for moral support, I would be able to tell you the important parts of my story, like how I know Sothis so intimately, or how our souls became permanently entwined in the first place… And if you agree to let me interrogate our prisoners, I’ll tell you everything I know of Sothis. It’s _far_ more than six months, for what it’s worth...

Rhea looked at her carefully, her gaze betraying a little of that familiar hunger in her eyes. Slowly, she nodded. “If… If young Lady Hresvelg’s presence means so much to you, I shall see it done tomorrow morning. And… Once you are completely healed, you may speak with the prisoners, though I shall be present to ensure that nothing befalls you. Now then… Let me help you back into bed.” Byleth was far too low on energy to do anything but comply, and soon drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

\---

Edelgard was nervous. She had found herself in front of Rhea’s door on the third floor more often than not ever since she had returned from the Sealed Forest, but now that she knew she was going to be allowed in at long last, her nerves were starting to creep up on her. Rhea was obviously keeping Byleth sequestered for some reason, and though Byleth had made it clear that the children of the goddess were not her enemies categorically, Edelgard still held doubts about the archbishop.

To her further dismay, the door guard for the moment was, once again, Seteth. She winced as he made eye contact with her, and after a moment to steel herself, she moved toward him, attempting to rein in her strong presence. “Seteth”, she intoned, feeling rather awkward. “Edelgard. I trust you got Lady Rhea’s message?” His response to her was curt, though not exactly angry. She could work with that.

“I did, yes. I admit, I was surprised to receive a summons after the way she reacted to me previously. And, er… As far as my conduct from yesterday goes… I would like to apologize. I was, and remain, rather stressed, but that doesn’t excuse how I lost my temper and shouted at you.” To her immense relief, the Saint at the door smiled ever so slightly. “Ah… Think nothing of it. When I was young, I would have done far worse had someone kept me from Eithne… Though you really ought to apologize to Indech. He is a bit more… well, interpersonally delicate, shall we say, than Macuil or myself.”

Edelgard nodded, accepting his rebuke and trying not to dwell on Seteth comparing her and Byleth to him and his late wife. “I have a bit of experience soothing Bernadetta, so I imagine that it will not be entirely unfamiliar. In any event… May I enter?” Seteth nodded. “You may… But I will warn you...” His eyes grew cold, and he began to scowl. “Both of them are in a precarious state right now. We all feel Mother’s absence, but… All I will tell you is to be mindful of what you say. I know you do not trust Rhea, but she is grieving.”

After acknowledging his rather cryptic warning, Edelgard found herself ushered into the spacious archbishop’s quarters. For so long, this room had been the enemy’s inner sanctum, and she could not help but feel a little of the old trepidation as she simply walked in through the door. It was generously apportioned, with many books, several pieces of obscenely comfortable-looking furniture, some flowering plants, a large, golden harp in one corner, and a gigantic bed in the center of the room, framed by tall, narrow windows which let in the morning light. The Sword of the Creator leaned against the far wall, dormant. The room was still somewhat dim even with those windows, and Edelgard found Rhea busying herself by lighting candles.

The two of them froze for a moment upon seeing each other close up, and in such an intimate setting. Rhea was not in her archbishop’s finery, but instead wore a plain, white dress with a black shawl around her shoulders. Her hair was messy, but free of its confinement underneath the ecclesiastical crown that normally rested on her head. Edelgard might actually be tempted to say that Rhea was beautiful, but the part of her that screamed to run, hide, or fight wouldn’t allow her to acknowledge that right now. Looking past her, to the bed, she finally made eye contact with Byleth.

It was jarring - her hair and eyes were now the same color and shade of green as Sothis’. Edelgard felt a pang of sadness in her chest as she realized that she could no longer find herself lost in the deep oceans of blue that had been Byleth’s eyes… But at the same time, their new color held mystery and light and life that she could scarcely have dreamed of. She stood ramrod straight, not even daring to breathe, until Byleth smiled at her.

“El. You made it.”

She crossed the room in an instant, halfway kneeling at the bedside, and embraced Byleth as tight as she dared to. “Byleth… I’m so glad you’re safe.”

A small chuckle sounded from her teacher, and she pulled back just a little, to look her in the eye again. “Really? You risk your life without either of us there to help you against a horde of demonic beasts, and the first thing you say is you’re glad _I’m_ safe?” Byleth smiled, and Edelgard’s soul felt like it was bursting into flames.

Rhea cleared her throat rather loudly, which made the two of them jump. She had an odd look on her face - there was clearly conflict in her mind… Part of her looked happy at seeing Byleth happy, but part of her was clearly disapproving of some aspect of what was going on. This conflict didn’t stop Edelgard from glaring daggers at the archbishop, who shrank back a little under her withering gaze. That, at least, gave Edelgard pause. She sighed, then stood back to her full height.

“My apologies. As I’m sure you’re aware, I was very worried, and…” Rhea shook her head. “No need to explain yourself to me, young Lady Hresvelg. I am well aware that the passions of your family burn brightly…” There was a wistful twinkle in the archbishop’s eye, and Edelgard had to fight very hard to not visibly react at what amounted to a confession of the archbishop’s relationship to the Imperial founder, Wilhelm I.

She coughed a little, trying to buy some time. “Er… Yes. Well. Not that I don’t appreciate being let in to finally see Byle-- my teacher, but… I admit that it was extremely unexpected to receive a summons so early in the morning after being rebuffed as I had been. Why am I here?” Rhea stiffened for a moment, then dipped her head toward Byleth. “It was by her request.”

Edelgard turned to face Byleth again, who to her surprise had scooted over slightly, and was now patting the bed next to her. “Sit down, Edelgard. I promised Rhea some truth-telling, but I… Well, I needed you. Er, here, for moral support.” She blushed, and Edelgard felt her own cheeks heat up. Still… 

“I see. Very well then. I am, of course, happy to help. But are you _sure_ about this?” Byleth cocked an eyebrow. “Am I… Oh! Oh, no, no. Don’t worry. I’m only sharing what’s mine to share. That’s still quite a bit, but… I’m not asking you to change your opinions, either. Just to behave.” She smirked. “Now, have a seat. I may need you for moral support, but I’d rather have this conversation while I’m actually sitting up, and that means I need you for literal support as well.” Edelgard nodded, bewildered, and sat down on the bed next to Byleth. 

With a hiss of pain and a groan of effort, Byleth hauled herself into a sitting position, then shifted and shimmied until she was reclining against Edelgard. She didn’t recognize the white gown Byleth was dressed in, and felt a little flame of envy grow inside her chest before she managed to lock down her emotions. How juvenile of her, feeling _jealousy_ about someone with far greater healing talent than her own taking care of Byleth… 

Byleth stopped all conscious thought in her head by leaning backwards and pressing the back of her head to Edelgard’s. “I _am_ glad you’re safe, El… And I’ll want to hear a full report about the battle once I’ve said what I need to say to Rhea. Okay?” Stammering, Edelgard squeaked out “Of course!”, which made Byleth laugh a little.

Byleth tapped her chin, humming as she thought of how to begin. She sighed softly, then motioned for Rhea to come join them in the chair that was drawn close to the bed. The archbishop settled in, looking somewhat uncomfortable, and a drawn-out silence filled the room.

“Well… I guess I should tell you what I meant yesterday when I said I’d known Sothis for longer than the few short months I’ve been here. It’s… Well, please bear with me. I need to explain a lot...” Byleth shifted, leaning more of her weight against Edelgard’s side.

“The first time I met Sothis… I woke up one morning to find a strange girl with green hair yelling things at me in my mind, and bandits attacking three nobles who were about my age. My father and I killed the bandits, and the girl in my mind saved me from a stupid death by turning back time. We came to Garreg Mach, and I took a job as the professor in charge of the Black Eagles house. I was naïve, then, and knew almost nothing about anything important outside of how to kill efficiently. The bandits at Zanado, Lord Lonato and all his militia, the Western Church members in the Holy Mausoleum, Miklan Gautier and his thieves… All died, by my hand. Then, Flayn was kidnapped.”

Rhea’s eyes widened as she realized that this was not simply Byleth’s attempt to recount the last few months, but she at least had the sense to let Byleth speak without interruption. Edelgard felt a strange sense of pride at knowing that her teacher had chosen her house first, before going back in time to try again.

A dark look crossed her face. “We rescued Flayn, she joined the Black Eagles, and we swept the Battle of the Eagle and Lion. Happiness wouldn’t last, though… Flayn’s kidnappers revealed themselves in a horrible blood experiment that destroyed Remire, a little village near the monastery. A month after that, demonic beasts attacked some students inside monastery grounds, and when my father and I rode out to stop them, he was assassinated. My students and I chased down his assassin a month later, but it turned out to be a trap. I was sealed away inside a realm of darkness…”

She exhaled shakily. “To escape… Sothis proposed that she merge her soul with mine, granting me her power. I didn’t know what a fateful decision that would be at the time - all I could think about was getting back to our world, to save my students… And so I agreed. She merged with me, and disappeared, just like… Like…” Byleth let out a small sob, and Edelgard squeezed her hand gently.

“Thanks, El… Sorry.” She took a brief moment to collect herself before continuing. “In any event, when I merged with Sothis, we became eternally, inseparably bonded. She told me then that both sides of time were revealed to me. I wouldn’t know what that truly meant for another five years...” 

Edelgard shifted nervously. They were getting close to when Byleth had indicated the war broke out, which meant that Edelgard’s identity was in jeopardy. As if she sensed her thoughts, Byleth deftly changed the pace of her story.

“As it happened, a war broke out, one which destabilized all of Fodlan. I was injured, and disappeared from the world for five years while my body restored itself. After that restoration finished, I returned to Fodlan, and led whatever allies I could scrape together in a campaign to restore peace to Fodlan. So many of my students, my _kids_ , died in that war… By the time we reached its conclusion, my heart was in tatters. I begged and pleaded for some way to change things…”

“That’s when Sothis came back. I don’t know how she did it, but she did. What’s more, she offered me a chance to go back, to start again… To return to the Great Tree Moon of 1180, and try to keep more of them alive this time. And so, I did. I tried again, and again, and again… I’ve lived through the years 1180 to 1186 so many times now, making different decisions and taking different actions each time… Going by years lived on a calendar, I’m probably a little older than you, give or take a couple decades.”

Rhea gasped, and Edelgard took some small satisfaction from seeing her so off balance. “As you’ve already guessed, I deviated pretty strongly from how things went that first time for _this_ lifetime, but the truth is a little stranger than simple time travel, if you can even call it that. This lifetime marks the first time that I’ve had a brother, or that our enemies have extended their reach all the way to Almyra. It’s also the first time I successfully rescued Flayn from a kidnapping in-progress… And it’s the first time that anyone else was able to hear Sothis’ voice and see her form, besides me.”

“Something in the fabric of the world broke this time when I went back, and… Well, we decided that this time _must_ be the one where we can get through everything, destroy our enemies, and bring peace to Fodlan all without any of my students, or any of the people I love, dying. It’s just… I’ve never merged with Sothis in *this* world, before. It’s several months early, and… I wasn’t prepared. It happened because I screwed up during our battle, and I… I’m so sorry, Rhea...”

Byleth hissed in pain as she twisted around to face Rhea, leaning her shoulder against Edelgard’s for support. “Just when you were finally reconnecting, and healing… I took her away from you again.” Tears began to fall in earnest from her eyes now, and Edelgard found herself at a loss for what to do. “I understand if you hate me for this… It was never meant to be this way. My meddling with time caused all of this, and--”

Rhea held up a hand. “Peace, Byleth.” Tears shone in her eyes, too. “If… If I understand you correctly, this course was one that you and Sothis chose, together. To return, to put yourself through pain again and again, all to save the lives of those you hold dear… Something that you have done a remarkable job at thus far, may I add.” She shook her head, smiling. “How could I be angry about that? I am, of course, devastated by this loss, but… I know more now. The same flames that lit all of ours burn brightly within you. The Progenitor Goddess has borne out her will again, into you… Our savior.”

Byleth stiffened at Rhea naming her a “savior”, but Edelgard couldn’t focus on it… Or on anything, for that matter. Her mind had begun to work at triple speed: _something_ was wrong, something was wrong, and she felt so _agitated_. What was--

\-- ” _has borne itself out again, even without your saying so. Hello, little one.” Lilac eyes met green, and_ \--

Edelgard gasped, falling backwards onto the bed. Byleth let out a strangled cry as she fell, but Edelgard knew no more.

\---

Seteth sighed deeply, smoothing out his hair and straightening his collar. Beside him, Cethleann practically vibrated with nervous energy. The same sadness he felt was somewhere within his daughter, but she had never known Sothis like her children did, and she had never felt the sting of Sothis’ loss before. To look at her now, it was almost tempting to think that she was completely fine… A foolish thought, though, and one that he banished quickly. He reached up, and knocked on the chamber doors.

“Enter”, Seiros’ said. Her voice was low, and quiet, which was unsurprising. He undid their wards, and swept into the room with Cethleann in tow. Byleth was sitting upright in bed, her face lined with worry. As soon as she saw him, she began to ask after Edelgard. Smiling faintly, he nodded to Cethleann.

“Hello, Professor! Edelgard is resting now. Neither Professor Manuela nor myself believe her to be in danger, though we were not able to identify the cause of her… episode. Still, you have my word as a healer that someone will be by her side to care for her until the moment she awakens! I know how important she is to you, after all…” Byleth flushed crimson, and stammered a little before choking out a small “Thank you, Flayn…”

Seteth beamed with pride. Cethleann was an incredibly accomplished healer, and to see her work was one of the greatest joys in his life. He couldn’t help but smile wider as he thought of the reason Cethleann insisted that they come to see Byleth. He let out a contented sigh, which drew a glowering look from Seiros. 

“My apologies, sister. It is just… Well, the pride of fatherhood, you might say.” Turning to Byleth, he fixed her with a serious look. “Byleth… I am eternally in your debt for standing in defense of Cethleann. Whenever you need my aid, you shall have it. But… Well, we came to see you today for a specific reason. Cethleann, if you would?”

She smiled radiantly up at him, then stepped forward, sitting down gently at the foot of Seiros’ bed. “Professor… You have done so much for me, and for my family. I have talked it over with Father, and well… I wish to join your class at the Academy! I know that I am not the most traditional student, and I am joining rather late in the year, but even so I would be ever so grateful for the chance to learn and grow under your tutelage! What do you think?”

Byleth smiled warmly back at Cethleann, and Seteth marveled at the obvious care and affection shining in her face. “ _Perhaps more of Mother remains than we expected…_ ”, he mused to himself. Byleth, meanwhile, exclaimed “Of course! I'd be absolutely thrilled to have you join us. Welcome to the Black Eagles, Flayn!”

\---

The din of noise from the other patrons did very little to settle Bereth’s mood. After he had made sure that Byleth was at least alive and going to make it through the night immediately after her daring battle in the cathedral, he had been, more or less, avoiding her, and avoiding Rhea, and avoiding his feelings…

Sothis was gone. He couldn’t _rightly_ resent Byleth for it - some part of him knew that she would never, ever have allowed Sothis to sacrifice herself if it weren’t completely necessary… And yet, he was still angry, and sad, and--

And goddess above this drink was _vile_. He grimaced, which earned a guffaw and a slap on the back from his drinking partner. How odd it was to drink side by side with his father after years upon years of not knowing he had one. Odder still that he had practically dragged Bereth out of his safe, warm office and into the dark depths of the earth, to some seedy tavern in an undercity of Garreg Mach. The drinks were vile, the company almost wholly unpleasant aside from Jeralt, and the atmosphere quite lacking. Still, though… It did mean he was further away from Byleth.

He shook his head, furious at himself. Jeralt took a drink, watching him carefully.

“Father”, he began, unsure of how he wanted to phrase this. “I think I’m a bad brother.” Jeralt’s carefully-constructed poker face betrayed nothing as he took another sip, then set his flagon down heavily on the bar-top. The grizzled mercenary hummed a little before speaking. “I wouldn’t know what a good one looked like, but I doubt you’re all that bad. What’s got you thinking like that, anyway?” Bereth shifted uncomfortably on the barstool.

“I just… I know it’s not her fault. And she even got hurt trying to protect me and protect Ce-- Flayn, in the process… But I can’t help but resent Byleth a little.” He felt dirty as he said the words aloud.

“She got to grow up with you… She got to grow up with Sothis… Even once I met her, I was nothing but an afterthought for Sothis until I started doing something that interested her, and now she’s… And now, Lady Rhea’s completely taken with Byleth, too… And Flayn… She won’t need to or want to spend time with me anymore either, since her life isn’t in danger anymore… In a single afternoon, it seems like she took away all the good things in my life… And I _know_ this isn’t rational, and I _know_ she’d never mean any harm in any of it… I just…”

Jeralt laid his arm around Bereth’s shoulders, pulling him into a hug. “You’re grieving.”

Bereth stared up at him, incredulously. “I… What? How did you get that from any of what I said?” Jeralt sighed. “I’ve grieved enough in my life to know just about any form it can take. You’re in the thick of it. You’re trying to run from the pain, pushing everything and everyone away so that you don’t have to feel anything. I guess you get it pretty honest, because I did it a lot, when I was younger.” His face darkened. “You shouldn’t run from it, though. It only gets worse the longer you go without confronting it. ‘S part of why I brought you here.”

Bereth cocked an eyebrow. “You… brought me to a bar to get me to feel things?” Jeralt nodded. “Eisners are shit at emotions. Just a fact of life. But, as the saying goes, drunk words are sober thoughts. So, we’re gonna get shitfaced, and you’re gonna feel what you need to feel, and I’m gonna be here for you like a dad should be.” Bereth felt the faintest of smiles pass his lips. “You do realize that I have almost the same level of constitution when it comes to liquor as you or Byleth, right?”

Jeralt smirked as he hefted a gigantic coin purse onto the bar, and flagged down the bartender. The man’s eyes nearly popped out of his head when he caught sight of all the gold on offer. Jeralt fixed him with a serious look. “You are going to take this money, and keep the drinks coming until we’re both hammered. It’ll be a while. Sound good?” The bartender nodded wordlessly, and snatched the bag away as if it were going to disappear. Bereth sighed, and took another disgusting sip. This was going to be a long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter didn't want to be written! Writing grief is hard! It's a good thing (for me) that Byleth and Rhea are both really, really bullheaded people and process emotions in similar ways. Anger is a natural part of grief, but putting the two of them together while they're both still emotionally raw was a really stupid plan on Rhea's part. It's no wonder they started in on each other.
> 
> Boy, I sure do like mysterious dreams that will get trickles of explanation over the course of coming chapters, huh.
> 
> Poor Edelgard. Since her interaction with Byleth this chapter was from her POV, we don't get to see how much of a *wreck* she is. She hasn't been sleeping, she's barely been eating... She's been beside herself with worry about Byleth. Attribute her fainting to a combination of being really overwhelmed and also just not in good physical condition. And if you don't recognize that bit at the end of her section, don't worry. Next chapter is going to center on our lords quite a bit.
> 
> Also Byleth recalling that she chose the Black Eagles first is because *I* chose the Black Eagles first. And then I went with Silver Snow because I'm a dumbass who likes pain. Blech. But anyway, neither Edelgard *nor* Rhea need to know that Byleth fought against her in her first life.


	34. Past Lives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edelgard and Bereth wake up after very interesting nights, and Edelgard entertains visitors.

_It was an incredibly important day in Enbarr. The whole city was alive and buzzing with anticipation - the archbishop herself was going to make a rare public appearance outside of Garreg Mach. The Imperial palace was abuzz with activity from well before dawn all the way up until a jubilant procession led the archbishop’s personal carriage, along with her honor guard of veteran Knights of Seiros, to its gates in the mid-morning heat. The archbishop greeted the adoring public with a smile and wave, before setting foot within the palace compound itself. A young girl with brown hair and lilac eyes watched as the scene unfolded from high up in a tower window, before sprinting down towards the entrance hall as fast as she could._

_She arrived just in time, as the doors were flung wide to welcome the leader of the Church of Seiros, the Voice of the Goddess herself. Knights, servants, and ministers alike flanked the entryway, bowing low as the archbishop swept forward. The young girl nervously took her place at her father’s side, clutching onto his hand. He gave it a light squeeze, then stepped forward, pulling his daughter along with him to greet his exalted guest._

_“My humblest greetings, Lady Rhea. It has been far too long since I last had the opportunity to look upon the face of one blessed so by the Goddess.” Rhea’s face beamed with a holy light as she smiled, and she returned his greeting with an equally stuffy-sounding one, but the girl couldn’t parse words right now. Instead, she stared up in wonder at the woman standing before her. She had shining green eyes, and hair to match, all done up in royal blues and gold. She was clad all in white, ornamented with gold and finery befitting a queen._

_Her father’s voice, low and warm, rumbled out, but she didn’t hear what it said, so lost in wonder was the girl. Then, her little heart quickened - the green-haired woman bent down, bringing herself to eye level, a kindly smile on her face. “I can see that the blood of Wilhelm has borne itself out again, even without your saying so. Hello, little one.” Lilac eyes met green, and the girl stared breathlessly. “You bear the Crest of Seiros, as have many of your kin before you. Do you know what it means, little one?”_

_She shook her head, brown hair flapping around her. The radiant woman’s smile grew even larger. “It means that you are beloved of the goddess, Sothis. With her power, I hope that you will do your part to honor your ancestor’s legacy, and that of your own Crest’s namesake. I wish dearly for great things for you, little Hresvelg.” The woman paused, and hummed thoughtfully. “Tell me… What is your name?” The girl’s little heart hammered inside her chest. With all her might, she pushed to find her ability to speak. At last, she managed it: “My name is Edelgard v-von Hresvelg, Your Grace."_

Edelgard woke with a scream.

Her scream was, thankfully, immediately attended to. A shock of green hair almost tricked her still-sleepy mind into thinking Byleth was there, only to be disappointed as her vision confirmed that it was, in fact, only Flayn. Still, the green-haired girl was obviously keeping an eye on her, so it wouldn’t do to be rude to her.

“Oh my goodness! Are you alright, Edelgard? That was a rather worrisome scream.” Flayn’s emerald eyes were full of concern, but her demeanor as a healer somehow radiated calm. It soothed Edelgard’s mind, and she nodded, weakly. “I… I had a dream.” Flayn looked at her carefully, curious but unwilling to pry too far. “Was it a nightmare? I have those myself, from time to time. They are always quite unnerving…” Her eyes glazed over, and for a moment she was lost in her own thoughts and memories.

“No, not quite. It… Wait. Where am I? And where is Byleth?” Flayn laughed softly to herself before answering. “You are in the infirmary, where you have been since yesterday morning. You fainted while talking to Professor Byleth and Lady Rhea. Oh! You must be starving! I’ll leave a note for Manuela to send for food.” She dashed over to the counter nearby, and hastily scribbled a note using Manuela’s notepad and quill. Evidently satisfied, she returned to Edelgard’s bedside.

“To answer your other question, she will be coming around very soon. Lady Rhea said that she would let her leave the upper floor to visit you at eight bells. That will be before you know it!” She beamed at Edelgard, who felt compelled to smile back. Child of the goddess or not, Flayn’s joy was somehow infectious. For a ridiculous moment, she envisioned siccing her on Hubert in an attempt to see him smile, before the two of them fell into an easy silence.

Some time later, Flayn snapped her head upwards with a small gasp. “Oh! I suppose I should tell you - I asked Professor Byleth if she would allow me to join the Black Eagles as an official student, and she agreed. So, from now on, you and I are classmates! I look forward to learning with you, Edelgard!” Edelgard blinked. _Flayn_ was going to join her class? However did she manage to get Seteth to agree to that? Realizing she had been silent for too long, she scrambled and managed a weak “And I you”. She was saved from this awkward moment by the monastery’s bells tolling out eight o’clock.

Flayn smiled at her. “She’ll be on her way, then! Once she arrives, I’m going to check her injuries, and then, I’ll leave the two of you to talk in private.” The little Saint had a devilish smirk on her face, but Edelgard appreciated her gesture nonetheless. She nodded, and began to wait impatiently.

\---

Byleth knocked at the infirmary door. She’d been no more than five minutes in getting down to the infirmary from Rhea’s chambers, but even that bothered her. She was clearly going to have to spend some time resting if she wanted to recover fully, as much as she hated to admit it. She was feeling a bit more like herself in spite of the injury - Rhea had finally let her wear her own clothes again, though without the armor to complete her usual outfit, she felt little better than naked. She sighed, thinking about how Sothis would have teased her about her fashion if she were still here. _Oh, Sothis_ … 

The door swung open, revealing Flayn, who was smirking mischievously. “Good morning, Professor! Edelgard is awake and ready for visitors!” Byleth stepped inside, shutting the door behind her. She returned Flayn’s greeting with a smile, reaching down to ruffle her hair absentmindedly. Flayn let out a small “Oh!”, and Byleth froze. “I… Er, sorry, Flayn. I don’t know what came over me.” Rather than looking insulted, though, Flayn looked completely elated. “Oh goodness! It’s no trouble at all! Please, pay it no mind! If anything, I am overjoyed by it - it is proof positive that some part of Grandmother remains with you.” Byleth’s eyes welled up with tears, and she stroked her dragonscale scarf with her thumb as she tried valiantly to hold together.

“Oh… I apologize, Professor. I know that this situation is still hard for you…” Flayn patted her arm, looking very contrite. Edelgard looked over at the two of them, though she betrayed nothing in her gaze. Byleth firmly pushed back her weepiness, and shook her head. “Don’t worry about me, Flayn. I’ll make it. I’ve had worse.” 

Flayn tutted at her. “Oh you have, have you? Well, let us move on to ‘worse’, then. Coat off - I need to examine your wound.” Byleth flushed, and her eyes flickered to Edelgard, who was now resolutely looking at the window. She attempted to steal a glance over toward Byleth, and their eyes met. Edelgard went crimson, and turned her entire body away. Chuckling, Byleth slipped off her coat, and allowed Flayn to poke and prod at her side. Seeing the formerly-grizzly wound mostly healed was bizarre to her, and she realized that Flayn was puzzled by her quick recovery as well.

After a few minutes, Flayn nodded in apparent satisfaction, and Byleth pulled her coat back on to cover her wound. “Well, it looks to be healing apace. That is very good news! I would still advise you to take things easy for the next few weeks. _Absolutely_ no sparring, understand?” Byleth sighed, and agreed to Flayn’s terms. Satisfied with this, Flayn bowed to Byleth, before straightening out and wrapping her in a tight hug. “Be well, Byleth. You are family, now, even more than you were before. Also… enjoy your time with our house leader.” Flayn had the audacity to _wink_ as she finished speaking, and she quickly skipped to the door, letting herself slip out as Byleth stood there, stammering.

Byleth swore under her breath. Edelgard must have heard her, though, because she laughed softly from the other side of the room. Just as Byleth was about to head over to sit at her bedside, she heard Flayn’s voice coming through the door.

“Eep!” Evidently, Flayn had almost run into someone outside. While she was internally debating whether to check on her or not, Byleth heard another familiar voice drifting into the infirmary. “Oh, goddess, Ce-- Flayn! I’m so sorry, I should have been paying more attention.” Flayn quickly responded, saying “Not at all, Bereth! I am quite alright, see?”

Bereth sounded like he’d had a hard night. Byleth made a mental note to try to speak with him about all of this soon - he must be just as torn up about Sothis as she was. Flayn spoke again, chipper as ever. “Er, well… Ah, your sister is in the infirmary, if you would like to see her!” 

“What?! Has her condition worsened?” The panic in his voice struck her as odd. With a small start, she realized that neither her father nor her brother had visited her while she had been awake in Rhea’s chambers. Flayn responded to Bereth, soothing him. “Oh dear me, no! I’m sorry, Bereth, I did not mean to cause you alarm. She is visiting Edelgard, who… Well, she had a fainting spell. She’s doing better now, though!”

Hmm. A fainting spell indeed. Byleth looked towards Edelgard, whose eyes had glazed over slightly. Byleth would soon get to the bottom of this situation… 

“Oh… I see. That’s good, then. Er, not that Edelgard was… I… Oh, you know what I meant, right?” Bereth’s stammering was always somewhat amusing to her, though she couldn’t place _why_ she felt that way. Outside, Flayn’s small laugh let her know that she also appreciated it. “I do indeed. Now then - what have you done to yourself? You look awful!”

The two of them slipped further down the hallway, and Byleth could make out no more of their conversation. She sighed. Bereth _had_ had a rough time of it, then. This confirmed it, and she would just have to suck it up and help him. That’s what siblings do, right? 

Shaking herself from her thoughts, Byleth cleared her throat, nervous. “Er… Well then. Good morning.” Edelgard smiled up at her, though it didn’t reach her eyes for once. “Good morning, my teacher. I’m glad you’re feeling better.” Byleth nodded. “Me too. As a general word of advice, if you ever happen to get impaled, just leave the sword there. Much less trouble in the long run.” Edelgard laughed, but her smile still wasn’t genuine. 

Byleth sighed. “Alright… Talk to me. What’s wrong?” Edelgard looked shocked - perhaps she thought she was acting better than she actually was? She shifted nervously on the bed, fiddling with her blanket. Finally, she too sighed. “I… When I was in the archbishop’s chambers, something she said triggered a memory. I dreamed about it, remembering more and more… It disturbed me, I won’t lie to you.”

Byleth crossed her arms in front of her chest. She had it on good authority that this was not the only reason she’d fainted yesterday, but she could always bring that up later. “I see… Do you want to talk about it?” Edelgard held very still for a moment, before nodding ever so slightly.

“Do you recall our mutual visions in Zanado?” Byleth cast her mind back, wincing as she replayed the unpleasant memory of Rhea, as Seiros, falling into the gorge. “I do, yes. You never told me what yours was, only that it was someone else’s memories.” Edelgard nodded slowly, still fiddling with her blanket. “Well… After my dream, I’ve realized that it was, in fact, my own memory… Would you like to hear about it?” Byleth, of course, nodded.

“Well, it was my early childhood. I’m unsure how old I was at the time, but it was before I was taken to the Kingdom. I don’t know the specific details of the occasion, but Rhea was in Enbarr on an official visit. I met her when I was just a little girl… She spoke so kindly to me, and talked to me about the Crest of Seiros. She said then that it meant that I was ‘beloved of the goddess’. Knowing what I know now, I believe it was nothing more than self-important blathering, but… Her words haunted me while I was imprisoned, years later.” Edelgard’s eyes went blank, and she seemed as if she were very far away.

“Hey… El.” Byleth laid a hand on Edelgard’s which managed to snap her back into the present moment. “You don’t need to go back there right now. You’re safe.” She blinked at Byleth, then slowly nodded. “I… I’m sorry. It’s just… I used to really love the goddess because of what she told me.”

Byleth nodded. “And when you were imprisoned, it destroyed that love?” Edelgard hummed, closing her eyes. “Yes and no. I felt like I’d been abandoned by the goddess. I spent so many nights longing for some kind of answer from her, even if it were the release of death… Eventually I began to wonder what I had done to make her hate me so. That was the only logical explanation in my mind. I must have done something wrong, and that made the goddess go from loving me, to hating me.”

She opened her eyes again. “Meeting Sothis shook everything that I thought I knew to its core. Now that she’s gone… I’m sorry, I know this is harder for you than it is for me, but… Knowing that she cared about me was like being healed with one hand and stabbed with the other. I _know_ she couldn’t do anything for me, or for anyone, but that doesn’t stop it from hurting. The goddess I prayed to may as well not have existed, for all the good my childish faith did.”

Byleth nodded. “Sothis was never comfortable with people worshipping her or praying to her. She didn’t talk about it much, but I could tell it always bothered her to know that people believed that she was this all-seeing, all-knowing force of nature. She was certainly powerful, but… I don’t know what Rhea was thinking, to create a system of belief like this.”

Edelgard nodded. “I suppose it’s easier to pretend that _someone_ is in control of everything, but… Now that I remember this part of my childhood, I wish that Rhea had never told me what she did. If I hadn’t grown up thinking I was ‘beloved of the goddess’, perhaps it wouldn’t have hurt as badly to figure out that I was alone.” 

Byleth sighed. “You aren’t alone anymore, you know. You have Hubert. You have the Black Eagles. You have Dimitri, and a fair few of the Blue Lions… You have me, too. This isn’t a burden you have to shoulder by yourself.” Edelgard stared at her, a hard glint in her eye. Byleth shifted uncomfortably under it - it was the steely determination that she was used to seeing in lifetimes when she and Edelgard had fought on opposite sides, not as allies.

“Do I truly have you, Byleth? Do I have your word that you would aid me, even if the Empire went to war with the church, like our enemy intends?” Despite herself, Byleth felt a pained grimace flash onto her face for a moment. Edelgard took in a sharp breath - her knuckles were white on the blanket’s hem.

“I would exhaust all of my options diplomatically first, including attempting to sway the rest of them, and even attempting to sway Rhea personally. Fodlan _has_ to change, and to side with the church without attempting to shift its direction would be to continue to keep secrets and hurt people with pleasant delusions. I could never bring myself to do that again.” 

She sighed deeply, and kneaded her palms against her temples. “Sothis… Sothis is gone. In her stead, it falls to me to shepherd and guide the people of Fodlan, and Rhea’s way isn’t worth it. I’ve seen it too many times to believe in it anymore. So… If things came to war, I would of course side with you. I just desperately don’t want that to happen again.”

Edelgard’s steely gaze melted instantly as relief visibly took hold of her. Her entire body untensed, and she laid her head back, resting it against the headboard. “Thank the goddess…” Byleth chuckled at Edelgard’s slip of the tongue, and half a moment later it occurred to her what she had said. She clapped her hand to her mouth, pink in the face. 

Byleth took her free hand between both of her own, and sat down on the bed next to Edelgard. “You know, it’s okay to still believe in Sothis. I do.” Edelgard slowly let her raised hand down, and began to smile as she placed it on top of Byleth’s. “Well… If Sothis is truly a part of you now, I have no choice, now do I? How could I not believe in the woman I--”

The door slammed open, and both women jumped in place. A man’s voice shouted out “El?! Are you alright?!” Standing in the doorway, breathing heavily, was Dimitri.

\---

The primal fear that took root in Dimitri’s heart when he heard gossip from the Black Eagles’ sitting nearby nearly broke him then and there. Leaving his own food (and his rather confused friends) behind, he sprinted towards the infirmary. If Edelgard was there, surely it was for something serious - he _had_ to make sure she was alright. He would _not_ lose any more family. Not ever again.

He took the stairs up to the second floor of the administration building two at a time. He skidded to a halt in front of the infirmary door, and wrenched it open. He cried out “El?! Are you alright?!” as he entered, and looked around wildly to try to find her pale hair. He didn’t have to look hard, it turned out.

He locked eyes with his step-sister, who was… What exactly was she doing with Professor Byleth? And… Why was Professor Byleth’s hair _green_ now? The two women looked equally shocked by his abrupt entrance, and Edelgard’s face had an odd pink hue to it. They all stared at one another for a little while longer, before Edelgard’s face twisted in anger, flushing redder and redder by the moment.

“ _Dimitri_ _!_ Do they not teach you people _manners_ in Faerghus?! What are you even… Urgh, I’m sorry, Byleth…” She looked at Byleth rather forlornly, though he noticed that Byleth’s face was torn between exasperation and amusement. The newly-green-haired woman (a sight that would take some getting used to, to be sure) chuckled softly, and bent down to whisper in Edelgard’s ear. Whatever she said caused Edelgard’s bright lilac eyes to open wide as could be, and after a short while, she nodded. Standing up, Byleth cleared her throat.

“Well, it’s nice to see where your priorities lie, Dimitri. I rip a sword out of my own stomach and sleep for three days and I don’t even get a get-well card, but Edelgard takes a little nap and you break the door down?” Dimitri’s face burned with embarrassment and shame, and he bowed his head. “I… I’m so sorry, Professor. I just… We had all heard that Lady Rhea was taking care of--”

A strange, musical, and utterly enchanting laugh cut him off. He looked up, bewildered, only to find it coming from _Professor Byleth_ of all people. She must have caught him looking at her askance, as she simply shook her head. “I can laugh too, you know. Honestly though, I was only teasing, Dimitri. I know how important family is to you. In fact, I was going to head out soon anyway. I’ll give you two a chance to talk.” Turning back to Edelgard, she said rather cryptically “Perhaps we can continue our conversation another time?” Edelgard nodded rapidly, which drew another musical laugh from the Professor. “Good. I’ll be looking forward to it. Until then, Dimitri, Edelgard.” She swept out of the room, pulling the door shut behind her.

Dimitri shifted his weight in place, suddenly feeling very awkward. He’d clearly interrupted them in the middle of an important conversation, and the guilt from that was fairly strong. Just as he began to word an apology, Edelgard sighed, and motioned to the chair next to her bed. Confused, he followed her direction, and sat down.

“Listen, El, whatever I interrupted, I’m sorry about--” She raised a hand, and he caught sight of ghastly scars on her bare wrist and forearm. “No, Dimitri. It’s fine… I know that you were just concerned for my well-being. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself, but… I do appreciate your concern. In fact, I actually wanted to speak to you, if you don’t mind staying for a little while.”

He nodded his assent, waiting anxiously for her to begin speaking. He had a sneaking suspicion he knew what this would be about after Sylvain, Felix, and Ingrid had all spoken to him about their views on Faerghan society, but he was willing to let her broach it first. He was, therefore, unprepared when she looked down at her lap, and said in a smaller voice than he imagined possible for her to possess, “I remembered some of my past.”

“Oh” was all he managed to get out at first. His mind was abuzz - her past? She remembered something from before the incident that caused her hair to turn white? His eyes flickered to her wrists again, tracing the patterns of scars on her skin. “Would you… Do you want to talk about it?” She let out a hollow laugh. “No, not quite. But, I wanted you to know that I remembered who I was before my torture… Because the time has come for me to explain who I have become.”

Dimitri held very still. Edelgard sighed deeply, and began to roll up the sleeve of the undershirt she was wearing. Unable to help himself, he let out a soft curse as every additional inch of skin revealed more and more cruel scars. Next, she rolled the bottom of her undershirt upwards, baring her midriff. More scars waited there, and to his horror, they were _larger_. Lastly, she tugged at her top buttons, undoing the first two and folding back the material to expose her collarbone. Even more scars stared back at him, garish against Edelgard’s porcelain skin. 

“Behold, the legacy of the Hresvelg Empire.” Her voice was full of pain, and derision. Dimitri hung his head in his hands. “Goddess… El, I’m so sorry.” Her eyes met his as he raised his head back up. “They burn every day. These scars are a reminder to never forget what was done to me and to my siblings… Our uncle did this to me, but… Understand well, Dimitri: what I am about to tell you cannot be repeated.” She suddenly pushed herself out of bed, and screwed her face up in concentration. She produced a strange sigil, weaving magic over the door and walls of the infirmary.

Satisfied, she returned to her bed. “Our uncle is not who he once was. There was a time when Volkhard von Arundel was a kind, generous, and pious man. Those days are long gone, as is he… The fiend who carries on his affairs is not Volkhard von Arundel, nor is he even truly _human_. Do you recall the group I spoke of in the Blue Sea Moon?” Dimitri nodded, casting his mind back to another uncomfortable conversation. “The man posing as our uncle is their leader. His true name is Thales, and he commands Those Who Slither in the Dark.”

Dimitri processed that information silently. It was hard to grasp - Lord Arundel looked the same as he ever had, but Edelgard would not simply _lie_ about this. And her scars came from somewhere. Finally, he nodded. “And these… things. Those Who Slither in the Dark… They are the mysterious enemy that you and Byleth have been fighting?” Edelgard smiled slightly, and nodded in return. “Byleth believes that you are ready to join our group. If you’re amenable to it, I would tell you more about them… And how they relate to my dream.”

Dimitri stiffened. Byleth was finally willing to allow him to join them? This was certainly unexpected, and yet… The fire within him would allow no other answer. “I am. Tell me what I need to know, El.” She smiled. “Very well, then.”

She launched into a brief history lesson which laid to waste everything Dimitri thought he knew of Fodlan’s history. The Elites had not been heroes at all, but villains who fought at Nemesis’ side at the urging of Those Who Slither in the Dark. Saint Seiros had brought them all low, and believed their threat to be eliminated incorrectly. They had persisted in secret, and had in recent decades begun a campaign to destabilize Fodlan and destroy the Church of Seiros to enact revenge on the Goddess herself, and all those who supported her. Edelgard had been mutilated and experimented upon to become their ultimate tool for change - a brainwashed symbol bearing the Goddess’ legendary Crest, the Crest of Flames.

She paused here, unsure of herself. “There is another secret that I must reveal to you now. I found my true path thanks to Byleth, that much is true… But it was not only Byleth. You have observed her changed appearance, I trust?” He nodded. It was hard _not_ to notice. “That is a testament to her… well, I suppose the only word for it is ‘apotheosis’. Byleth has merged her soul with that of Sothis, the Goddess.”

Dimitri staggered backwards, stunned by this revelation. “Byleth is… the Goddess?” Edelgard smiled, and laughed softly. “Not quite. Sothis was bonded to her as a baby, and her power is how Byleth is such an adept fighter and commander despite being little older than either of us. Sothis had the power to turn back the hands of time in battle… It’s how she avoids casualties, and always seems to know the enemy’s plans before they make them. While we were fighting in the Sealed Forest, Byleth stood against several powerful agents of Those Who Slither in the Dark, but was overcome. The only option left to her was to merge with Sothis, attaining the power of godhood.”

Dimitri rubbed the back of his head. “That is… a lot to take in.” Edelgard laughed louder this time. “Indeed. And yet, you must. It is the truth. There is even more to her story, but it is hers.” 

Dimitri sighed. “So… What happens now?” Edelgard looked at him thoughtfully. “Well, now, you come to our next meeting. You may bring Dedue, if you prefer. I bring Hubert, myself. I would only ask that you seek out Hubert or myself before you bring Dedue up to speed, so that we can cast this Muffling spell first. Our enemy cannot be allowed to know that we are onto them.” He nodded in agreement, and the two of them fell into silence for a time.

He was the one to break it, unusually. “Hold, El. You said that this related to your dream, before.” Her eyes widened, and she chuckled. “How unlike me to forget that part. Very well.”

She hissed in pain as she conjured a manifestation of the Crest of Flames. “Crests are responsible for all the pain in my life, and for the pain in the lives of countless others. My dream is to create a world where no one will be hurt by these wretched things ever again… Those Who Slither used my dream for their own ends, before. They set me up to declare war on the church, to destroy the power structures within the Empire, and allow them far greater control over one third of Fodlan’s power balance. Yet even now that I am free of their hold, I still dream of forging a new society, where neither crest nor noble pedigree is a determining factor in one’s status.”

“In my world, a crestless pauper could rise up to become a general, if he deserved it. So too could a blue-blooded, crest-bearing noble heiress, if she deserved it. Merit, not quirks of birth, will be the determining factor for success in my world. And I have many people who share this dream with me… I…” She began to play with the hem of her blanket, and she looked away from him. “...I would love nothing more than to share this dream with you, Dimitri.” 

Dimitri, for his part, kept his face neutral. He considered his words carefully, then spoke. “I… While I cannot deny that crests, and the nobility that value them so, have done terrible harm, this plan of yours… I have misgivings about it. I agree with the basic thrust of your argument - the system as it is now is unsustainable. My own conversations with my trusted friends have convinced me of that much. But your proposed system… I don’t know, Edelgard. It seems to me a path of the strong, for the strong. What of those who are too weak to rise up to seize their destiny? A meritocracy can do as much harm as it can good.”

She stared at him, clearly surprised. “I… I admit, I had not actually considered it in that way.” She hummed, looking away as she searched for words. Unfortunately, a knock at the door spelled the end of this conversation, as its source was quickly revealed to be none other than Claude von Riegan.

The two step-siblings stared at the Leicester noble. “Ah… Am I interrupting a rousing debate between Their Royal Highnesses? Or is this something more fun than that?” His wink, annoying at the best of times, was infuriating in this moment. Still… He had a point. For propriety’s sake, he ought to make himself scarce. Edelgard huffed. “It’s nothing you need to concern yourself with, Claude. Welcome back, by the way. You’ve missed a lot.” 

Their fellow house leader chuckled darkly. “Oh, probably not as much as you think. Or did you forget?” He tapped his forehead cryptically, which puzzled Dimitri. “In any event, I did actually come here for a reason. Can we talk, Princess? I’ve got a bone to pick with you.” Edelgard met Dimitri’s eyes for a moment, and despite the concern he felt, her gaze was confident and self-assured. He sighed. “Very well. I should be going anyway. I will see you later, sister, and shall send Hubert along as requested.”

Edelgard blinked, then nodded. “That is appreciated. Take care, Dimitri.” He passed Claude in the doorway, who chuckled. Just before he shut the door, he heard the easy-going noble’s voice drawl out “‘Sister’, huh? Boy, if he meant that in the churchy way, Byleth’s gonna be upset…” As the door drew closed with a click, the Muffling magic Edelgard had placed on the door took effect again, and he could hear no more. Dimitri ran off to find Hubert, just in case.

\---

“Hey. Time to wake up.”

Bereth groaned. Everything hurt - his head felt like it was about to split open, his chest and back ached, and his entire lower body was stiff and sore. As he blearily opened his eyes to inspect his surroundings, the pungent odor of the seedy tavern they’d been drinking in all night washed over him once more, threatening him with sickness. He blinked slowly, trying to will everything to _stop_ , but reality was disobeying him quite rudely. He groaned again, and managed to turn his head to stare upwards at his father.

The man was, somehow, on his feet. He looked as though he felt at least some of what Bereth was experiencing, but somehow he could stand. Though, it wasn’t exactly a surprise that a long-term mercenary commander could handle a hangover, even one as wicked as the one currently laying Bereth out. His father smiled at him softly, rubbing circles on his back. Bereth almost lost himself in the feeling - it was so _nice_ \- until the bartender clunked two small glasses down in front of the pair of Eisner men.

Jeralt growled out his appreciation, then pinched his nose and downed whatever they’d been given. He grimaced, shook his head a few times, and swallowed. Bereth looked towards the bar top with growing horror, eyeing the strange concoction warily. “Father… That’s an egg.” Jeralt nodded. “Yup. Bunch of other good things in there too. Hold your nose, it goes down easier when you do.” Bereth looked back and forth between his father’s face and the strange, eggy liquid, then nodded. If it made him sick, perhaps purging would get him to feel better… He held his nose, mirroring his father, and knocked back the mixture. His throat was assaulted with the sharpness of vinegar, along with spice and some kind of savory flavor, as well as a splash of some strong spirit. The egg yolk went down easier than he thought it would, but overall the experience was wholly unpleasant. 

He managed to pull himself up off the barstool, stretching and popping his joints as he did so. “Goddess… I don’t know if I’ve ever been this bad before.” Jeralt chuckled. “You get used to it. Hell, you’d have fit right in with the rest of us on the road, back before…” He sighed, evidently lost in memories, before shaking his head. “Well… Now that you’re up and more or less stable, I’m gonna have to get back at it. You want to come back with me, or do you need a little longer?” Bereth grimaced. The prospect of walking up the long tunnel to the surface was incredibly daunting. “I think I’ll gather my strength for a bit.” He hesitated a little, thinking over the night before.

“Thanks, Father. I appreciated this.” Jeralt looked at him for a moment, then broke into a smile. “Anytime, kid. Now… Like we discussed, you go and you--” Bereth cut him off with a wave, feeling heat rise on his face. “Yes, yes, I… I’ll think about it. Go meddle somewhere else.” Jeralt laughed, his voice booming in the bar and drawing the temporary ire of others suffering from their own long nights. He clapped a hand on Bereth’s shoulder. “Good luck, kid. I’ll see you later.” And with that, Jeralt swaggered his way out of the bar. Bereth felt a little colder without his father’s presence.

He walked back over to the bar, and flagged down the bartender. “Do you have a mirror handy? I want to see what the damage is…” The man nodded behind him, towards a large, copper brewing vat. Its surface was close enough to a mirror for his purposes, so Bereth made his way over to it carefully. He grimaced - dark circles under his eyes would announce his long night to anyone who got within speaking range, and his unkempt hair was matched by the beginnings of scruffy stubble all along his jaw and cheeks. Shaving in this state seemed like a potentially bad idea, so he resolved to simply take a personal day and sleep this nonsense off like a responsible adult.

Walking out of the tavern proved more challenging that he thought it would be. A man in dark robes with shoulder-length brown hair was attempting to walk in, and Bereth completely misjudged his level of coordination as he tried to slip past the man. He and the stranger ended up on the hard stone floor outside the bar, a tangle of limbs. He winced in pain as his head throbbed ominously, and slowly extricated himself from the other man. Pulling on his most inoffensive voice and harmless demeanor, he bowed low once they had both managed to stand. “I am terribly sorry about that, my good man. Forgive my clumsiness, would you?”

Surprisingly, the other man smiled at him, shaking his head. “Not at all, there was no harm done. I am perfectly…” He stopped mid-sentence, staring hard at Bereth. Recognition flared in his eyes, and he gasped softly. “It… It’s _you_! The child!”

Bereth stared at him, completely nonplussed. “I… Sorry? I’m afraid I do not follow. My name is Bereth. I work as-- er, in the monastery.” He kicked himself - flashing a title like his down here might prove dangerous. Fortunately, the man didn’t seem to focus on his very obvious attempt to hide what he did in the monastery. Instead, he smiled widely. “Goddess be praised, it _is_ you! Oh my goodness… Please, Bereth, I know this is sudden, but would you mind terribly waiting nearby for me? I have been holding onto something for many years now, but meeting you must be the will of the Goddess! I can finally give it over to its rightful owner.”

Bereth was utterly confused, but opted to go and wait next to a brutish-looking fellow who he had only ever heard referred to as the “Abysskeeper”. In reality, the man’s scary appearance was all for show - he was a charming and delightful fellow, and quite well-educated on the comings and goings of people in the undercity of Garreg Mach. He and the Abysskeeper made pleasant conversation for a while, until the strange man in the dark robes reappeared, slightly out of breath. He had a small, leather-bound book in his hands, and upon reaching Bereth, he held the book out to him.

“Here. This journal belonged to your late mother, Sitri. May the Goddess care for her soul…” Bereth blanched, and stepped backwards in shock. “I… What?” The man attempted to soothe Bereth’s worries by returning his arms to his side and speaking softly, but Bereth’s mind was overwhelmed. He interrupted the man mid-speech, blurting out “I-I’m sorry, I haven’t heard a word you said. I… Who _are_ you? How did you know my mother’s name?”

The man winced at the outburst, but nodded slowly. “My apologies, I really ought to have led with something else. I did not mean to overwhelm you. My name is Aelfric, and I knew your mother from childhood. We both grew up here, at Garreg Mach.” Bereth’s mouth hung open, but he did not have the wherewithal to close it. The Abysskeeper piped up next, saying “Aelfric here is one of the two reasons this place even exists! He got the archbishop’s permission _years_ ago, and he’s still our liaison to the church. Because of him and Yuri, an awful lot of people are able to have a roof over their heads at night. You should listen to him.”

The man, Aelfric, bowed his head a little, and thanked the Abysskeeper before returning his attention to Bereth. “As I said before… I came into possession of this journal shortly after your mother’s… After she…” He coughed, and looked downward for a moment. “After her untimely passing, I hung onto it. I have read its contents, which is how I know of you, dear child. I must say, your face reminds me of hers quite a bit…”

He sighed. “In any event, you _really_ ought to have this. It’s yours by right, and… Well, if I may, there is information contained within it that you should know. Though… I would advise you not to mention this to Lady Rhea.” Alarm bells began to sound in Bereth’s mind, but his curiosity outweighed it. Here was physical proof of his mother’s love for him - she’d written about him, after all - and a potential secret to be hidden from Lady Rhea herself? He _had to know_.

Finally, he brought himself to nod and take the journal. The leather was old and worn, but somehow just by touching it Bereth felt warmed. “I… Thank you, Aelfric. I appreciate this gift more than words can say.” Aelfric shook his head. “Do not thank me just yet. You’ve yet to read it, after all…” Despite the ominous way he ended that sentence, Aelfric would say no more here, and Bereth’s curiosity was _screaming_ at him in his mind. Bowing low, he thanked Aelfric once again, and began the long journey to his office.

He attempted to draw as little attention to himself as humanly possible once he got back to the surface. By the height of the sun and the lack of people milling about, he guessed that it was somewhere between eight and nine bells, which suited him perfectly fine. He slipped into the administration building, though his head really began to bother him again as he ascended the stairs. Why couldn’t they have built everything on the ground level?

As he hurried into the hallway towards his office in the library, he came very close to a second collision in one day. Cethleann was leaving the infirmary, smiling to herself and looking quite tired all the same. As a result, she was very clearly not looking where she was going, and let out a small “Eep!” as he careened to a stop just short of flattening her against the wall.

“Oh, goddess, Ce-- Flayn! I’m so sorry, I should have been paying more attention.” She shook her head, her smile somehow growing wider. “Not at all, Bereth! I am quite alright, see?” She stepped back and twirled around. Something in his soul felt lighter at the sight.

She spoke again after he failed to respond. “Er, well… Ah, your sister is in the infirmary, if you would like to see her!” Bereth felt an icy pang of fear in his heart. “What?! Has her condition worsened?” Cethleann’s eyes went wide, and she shook her head rapidly. “Oh dear me, no! I’m sorry, Bereth, I did not mean to cause you alarm. She is visiting Edelgard, who… Well, she had a fainting spell. She’s doing better now, though!”

He brought his arm up to mop his forehead, and let out a nervous breath. “Oh… I see. That’s good, then. Er, not that Edelgard was… I… Oh, you know what I meant, right?” Cethleann giggled at his flustered speech, and nodded. “I do indeed. Now then - what have you done to yourself? You look awful!”

Bereth flushed pink as Cethleann began to examine him in the hallway. He started to walk towards his office, but she kept pace with him, unwilling to let this go. He was about to protest when she caught sight of the journal he was clutching in his hand. “Oh, my! What is that?” Aelfric’s earlier warning reverberated in his mind, and rather than explaining, he took Cethleann’s hand with his free one. “I promise I’ll explain, and I’ll even let you examine me and tut about my health if you like, but not here. My office?” She looked askance at him for a moment, but eventually nodded. The two of them walked down the hallway to the library, still hand in hand. Neither of them realized what the situation looked like, but fortunately they were not spotted or interrupted on their walk. 

Securely ensorcelled in his office, he collapsed into one of his guest chairs, and Cethleann sat beside him, looking at him with concern. “Ah… Right. Er… I might be a bit… hungover, I suppose.” He felt shameful, admitting that to her. To her credit, Cethleann hardly batted an eye at the news. Instead, she nodded. “I suppose that explains a great deal. Come, then. I shall heal you, and then you may begin your explanation of that book, if you please.” She conjured healing light, and began passing it over various spots on his body - temples, throat, chest, and stomach. The difference was immediately noticeable, and he sighed with relief. She brought her hands back up to his head, but rather than healing at his temples again, she simply rested one hand on his cheek while placing the other palm-outwards against his forehead. He flushed again at the unexpected contact.

“Hmm… There are no lingering adverse effects. How do you feel?” Without thinking, he blurted out “Incredible, now.” He blinked. Oh, goddess. 

Stammering, he added “Er, now that I’ve received medical care, that is!” Cethleann had an odd look in her eyes, and for a moment he feared that he had offended her. But instead, amazingly, she broke into a smile. “Ah, that does my heart well, then! I was quite worried, you know… I haven’t seen you since the day of the battle, Bereth.” 

Though her tone was as mild as could be, her words still felt like a lance through his heart. He dropped his head in shame. “I… I apologize, Cethleann. I could not face anyone after what happened, and… Well… I found myself in an unexpected situation last night. It’s allowed me some perspective. It was incredibly rude of me to treat you, and everyone else, like this. I humbly ask for your forgiveness.”

Cethleann cocked her head to the side, bewilderment on her face. “I have no idea what you are apologizing for, but I suppose if you wish to apologize, I will accept it. But please, you’ve done nothing to wrong me, I assure you! I was merely… Well, um… I was concerned.” She looked away, wringing her hands in her lap.

The two of them sat there in an awkward silence for some time, before she broke it. “So… What is that book you are carrying?” He breathed in deeply, and held it up. “This was, evidently, my mother’s journal. A man who claimed to be her childhood friend gave it to me this very morning, and…” He paused, unsure of himself. 

“I do not mind sharing its contents with you, Cethleann. I trust you. But… Would you mind terribly if this stayed between us, for the time being? I don’t want anyone to know what is in here until I decide to tell them. Not Father, not Byleth… not Lady Rhea.” Her emerald eyes widened at the last name he mentioned, but after only a moment’s consideration, she nodded. “My lips are sealed.”

He scooted his chair up against hers, and with a deep breath, cracked the book open. The first entry he decided to read was dated to 25 Ethereal Moon, 1158, though there were only a few others before it. Evidently his mother was not in the habit of journaling. He cleared his throat, and began to read aloud to Cethleann, who settled against his side comfortably.

_“Tonight was the annual ball. Mother unexpectedly relented and allowed me to go, despite it being mostly students - she even bought me a beautiful dress, and one of her attendants helped me with my hair. I had expected it to be an awkward time, not knowing anyone there, but out of nowhere, Jeralt appeared! He quite literally swept me off my feet. I hadn’t smiled that hard since he asked me to marry him. What a night! I must thank Mother for this properly, some time._

_Though, planning for that must wait. Jeralt told me he would be home for the next week or so after his report tonight, and I plan to welcome him home properly once I’m finished writing this. Wish me luck, er, me!”_

Fascinated, he read the next entry. 

_“17 Guardian Moon, 1158_

_I have missed my bleeding. My hands are trembling even as I write this - Jeralt was only here for a week! Granted, we were together often, but… Can it truly be? Could I truly be with child? If I am… I am afraid to tell Mother. She has always worried about me so, and many of the other nuns have witnessed births go terribly wrong… But Mother would know what to do._

_Oh, Goddess, please grant me the strength for this. And please bring my Jeralt back to me safely, and soon…”_

Bereth’s mind was alight. His mother’s thoughts were so scattered in this entry, yet he could feel the fear in her shaking pen strokes. Cethleann laid a hand on his arm, looking up at him with wide eyes. He shook his head - he didn’t want to talk yet. They still had more to go. The two of them skimmed through the next few entries - they mainly seemed to be there for Sitri to chart her progression, containing little, if any, personal anecdotes. The dates grew closer and closer to his birthday, and her death…

_“18 Horsebow Moon, 1159_

_Mother says that I was ‘blessed’ by the Goddess Herself while I was cleaning the Holy Tomb earlier today. She scolded me for going down there alone (though, she shouldn’t have taught me how to undo the wards if she didn’t want me to explore!), but she’s so certain that this whole affair is a blessing... I’ve never seen her like this before. I just needed a distraction from Jeralt’s absence, not this!_

_Meanwhile, I now find myself ‘blessed’, without a husband here to rely on and with another little ‘blessing’ on the way. I can almost feel it in my bones - the birth will happen soon, and I fear Jeralt will not make it back to Garreg Mach in time._ _~~Goddess, grant me strength to deal with this, if you’ve seen fit to burden me with it.~~ _ _No, that is unkind. These little ones can’t help it. And if raising the both of them falls to me, then so be it. I shall rise to this challenge, Jeralt or no Jeralt._

_I named the foundling ‘Bereth’.”_

Bereth dropped the journal as his mind went blank.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edelgard was seven when she first met Rhea. There's not really a point in this detail existing. *shrug*
> 
> Soapbox time: pure meritocracies are bad. As big of an Edelgard stan as I am, Dimitri has a very valid point in Azure Moon - even the tempered, softened Edelgard in Crimson Flower is making a world that is a world of and for the strong, not the weak. Edelgard has to come to terms with that, and what better way than for her to hear it from someone she trusts? These two are going to hash out what their ideal world looks like in coming chapters.
> 
> Yes, Jeralt and Bereth had prairie oysters. You have *no* idea how much I wanted to put in a completely unnecessary bar fight in the beginning of Bereth's POV section, and have Jeralt play the part of Spike Spiegel. Resisted it. Barely.
> 
> Hey neat, I can finally talk about Bereth's name. So, just like Byleth and Sitri are both names from the Ars Goetia (the twelfth and thirteen names, matching up with their positions as the twelfth and thirteen vessels of Sothis' Crest Stone), Bereth also was taken from the Ars Goetia. His name comes from Baal Berith, who is the twenty-eighth demon listed, who incidentally has similar summoning conditions to Beleth (Byleth's own namesake). Baal Berith was a version of the ancient Mesopotamian rain god Hadad that was worshiped in what is now Beirut. "Berith" is a Hebrew word meaning "covenant", though it comes from the Akkadian word "biritu", which means "to fetter" or "to bond". Together with "Baal", the name means roughly "Lord of the Covenant".


	35. Seeds Sown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edelgard has a chat with Claude that's been a long time coming, Dimitri attends his first meeting of the Secret Time Travel Club, and Flayn tries to pull Bereth out of his despair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CN for some light suicidal ideation during the third section. No imagery, but the language is there.

“‘Sister’, huh? Boy, if he meant that in the churchy way, Byleth’s gonna be upset…” A cold chuckle followed Claude’s attempt at a joke, but Edelgard was somehow _already_ past her normal point of patience with him. She was not in the mood for his antics, especially when they related back to Byleth - she still remembered how troubled Byleth had been the last time either of them had seen Claude.

“Dimitri is my brother by marriage, though our shared parent is long dead. I would have thought a master schemer with more life experience than most our age would have figured that out already. Perhaps you aren’t as good as you think you are.” She glared at him, and to his credit, he didn’t flinch or look away. “Hmm. Touchy subject, then. My apologies.”

She scoffed, and folded her arms over her chest - with a start, she realized that her scars were still exposed, and she surreptitiously rolled down as much of her rolled-up undershirt as she could. Still, Claude wouldn’t have missed it. She cursed herself silently, and shifted in place on the bed. “Well? Are you going to ask your questions, or stand there all day?”

Claude eyed her warily. “Oh, I certainly have no intention of being here longer than I need to, Miss Flame Emperor. I’m not sure what crawled up your ass and died to make you so ornery, but I suppose I was waiting for you to remember to be a bit more civil first.” Anger flared up in Edelgard’s chest. “Civility is earned, once it’s removed by another person. Apologize to Byleth for how you treated her if you want me to stay my tongue. Otherwise, ask your questions and go.”

He laughed softly, and shook his head. “Oh no. Don’t even start. That is not a conversation you want to have with me.” He sighed, leaning up against the wall by the foot of her bed. “I’ll assume you won’t drop it, though, and do you the favor of getting on with this. I’ve only got one question, and--”

Edelgard growled out “How can you be so _callous_?! Byleth almost _died_ , and you couldn’t care less!” _That_ got through his mask - his eyes widened in surprise for the briefest moment, before he looked away from her, brow knitted.

“What the hell do you mean, ‘almost died’? This was just the month when Flayn gets kidnapped, right? That wasn’t a hard fight - Byleth and the Deer managed without me when it was our turn.” Edelgard scoffed - for all his future knowledge, he was an idiot to assume that everything would play out like he expected. “Perhaps that’s how events went for you, but _we_ have been doing our jobs a little too well.”

She launched into a brief explanation of the events of the previous weekend. She started with the incursion of demonic beasts into the Sealed Forest, which she fought in twice, after Byleth realized that it was a diversion and rolled back time. To her growing anger, she noticed that Claude barely registered any concern on his face at all for his fellow Golden Deer that had fought at her side and under her command. Stifling her anger, she then moved to second-hand accounts of the battle in the cathedral. She had wrung the story in full out of Seteth and Yuri on different occasions while Byleth had been sleeping, so she could tell that part of the story well enough.

When she got to Byleth’s apotheosis, Claude looked mournful. _Now_ he showed emotion? For Sothis? How strange. She sighed, rubbed her throat, and began to move on to the events of the past few days, but Claude stopped her. “No offense, Princess, but I don’t care what happened outside of the battle. If I need to know, I’ll ask Byleth myself. That whole thing… I admit, it’s more than I had expected. Though… I _am_ curious. What happened to Anacharsis? Er, you know, Teach’s black knight?”

Edelgard narrowed her eyes at him. Claude von Riegan had always been somewhat inscrutable, but over the past few moons he’d become even more so. Still, his behavior since he’d walked in the room was on an entirely different level. She sighed - he was unlikely to answer her directly, if she asked. Perhaps playing along would get him to reveal something unintentionally. 

“He was imprisoned by Rhea. Byleth is going to interrogate him soon.” He closed his eyes, and hummed. “I see. Well, I suppose it’s good that she didn’t outright kill him, then. In my first life, Byleth _butchered_ Solon after getting all goddess’d up. Not that I would have been able to do any different, if it were me. Revenge is a powerful motivator, eh Princess?”

She ignored his barb - comments about his first life were always a strange bit of information, and she didn’t want to risk stopping him from saying more if he were inclined. Unfortunately for her curiosity, he didn’t seem like he was going to reveal anything else, and the two of them fell into an uneasy silence. There was a knock at the door, and it opened a fraction of the way, enough for her to see a sharp yellow-green eye staring at her - Hubert. Dimitri had come through after all. She waved him in, and after bowing to her, he produced a small tray of food from the dining hall - some of the sweet apples she enjoyed, as well as some _heavenly-smelling_ sautéed pheasant. Her stomach growled audibly, and she flicked her eyes to Claude. “I haven’t eaten since yesterday morning, so if you don’t mind, I’m going to tuck in. Go ahead and ask your question: this won’t take long.”

He eyed her curiously, obviously confused by her circumstances, but eventually shrugged. “Fine by me. In my first lifetime, shortly after we returned from executing Miklan Gautier like we were the church’s hit squad, you managed to overhear an exchange between Teach and myself. You ended up interrogating me a little - asking about my family, my sudden, mysterious appearance in Leicester politics, my reasons for being at House Riegan, and my reasons for being at Garreg Mach. We ended up dancing around it a little, but it came out that both of us were there at Garreg Mach for the sake of our own dearly-held dreams. So, my question is simple enough: What is the dream that you came to Garreg Mach to fulfill?”

She stared up at him while rather un-nobly wolfing down her portion of pheasant. Goddess take her, it was so good… But, no, she couldn’t get distracted right now. As she finished off her meat and cleaned up a little, Claude spoke again. “Tell you what, let’s make it a double - tell me how your plans changed once you met Teach, since you made such a big deal about it in your first meeting with our group, and I’ll tell you about _my_ dream.” Now _that_ was motivation.

She breathed in deeply, unsure of how much he already knew. Perhaps it was best to start at the beginning. “While I cannot speak for the actions of the Edelgard you knew and fought against, we would have both come here with the same purpose - to destabilize and delegitimize the church and demoralize its followers, find an opportunity to obtain powerful artifacts that Those Who Slither knew were hidden away within the Holy Tomb, and use my position as the heir apparent of the Empire to declare war on the church. Their influence in my earlier plans is undeniable - I was shaped into the perfect tool for their plans from childhood, and my dream was little more than a leash around my neck to them.” 

She shifted around a little, and bared one of her arms again. “These scars that you’ve had the decency not to comment about? All from what was done to me as a child - experiments, ultimately culminating in blood reconstruction surgery. That’s when I was implanted with my Crest of Flames. After that, while I was still little more than a child, I was taught _their_ history of the world, taught to believe that the children of the goddess were all wicked creatures that had enslaved humanity… I admit, even after Byleth and Sothis showed me a different path, I still harbor some animosity towards Rhea, though not the others.”

She smiled wryly. “Flayn couldn’t be wicked if she tried, and Seteth could, but I somehow doubt he would. Rhea, on the other hand… The truly insidious part of the lies that Those Who Slither told me is that they were built on half-truths, and sometimes even full truths. Rhea _is_ , or perhaps _was_ , now, just what they told me - a scheming immortal who created the chains that keep people enslaved to this day. It was her influence that created the crest system, and the system of nobility… Her decisions and actions are the reason for all of the suffering Fodlan’s people have endured for the last twelve hundred years.”

Claude sniffed. “That’s great and all, and I don’t disagree, but if we could skip to _recent_ history..?” Edelgard huffed, and took a bite of one of her apples to force Claude to wait a little longer. It was delicious - crisp, sweet, and quite juicy - and she smiled up at Hubert in thanks.

Her mouth clear again, she sighed. “Fine, then. More recent history it is. Well, as I said, because of Rhea’s actions, my dream is to tear down the oppressive systems of crests and nobility. I want to create a world where anyone, no matter their background or station, can make the most of their life.” She paused, remembering Dimitri’s words from earlier that day. “In some ways, I suppose it is a world designed for the strong, but… In an ideal scenario, it would not work that way. I… I believe in the goodness of people - without the shackles our current society has placed on them or the corrupted and corrupting influence and lure of nobility hanging over them, people would find it within themselves to work for the good of all. It would take work to get there, obviously, but that work is my life's calling. We would reform education, transportation, agriculture... The very fabric of society would be changed with the purging of nobility and crests. In point of fact, I feel so strongly about nobility that I don’t even want to remain in power after I’ve established this new world order. Ideally, I would want to settle down somewhere quiet, and live out the remainder of my days in peace, as someone unimportant.”

She chuckled to herself. “Goddess, it’s impossible to separate my dream from the new perspective Byleth and Sothis gave me, now… The old Edelgard, the one that you knew, wouldn’t have such a nuanced view, I don’t think. Before they saved me from Those Who Slither’s hold over me, I was consumed with thoughts of how I was going to accomplish all of this… I never gave much time to considerations of what it would look like afterwards, beyond the most general of plans… Now then. I believe you owe me your own dream.”

Claude looked at her, thoughtfully. He didn’t say anything for a little while, but when he did eventually speak, it was with less of an edge than he had had before. “Well… Damn. Maybe your dream and mine weren’t so incompatible, after all. Of course, without Byleth on _your_ side, you never would have listened. Maybe that’s why you got picked this time - maybe Byleth felt bad for ending your dream, instead of embracing it…”

He shook his head, evidently trying to clear his mind a little. “In any event… My dream was a selfless dream, truth be told. I came to Garreg Mach, and to House Riegan, for the sake of that dream - to collect power and influence that I could use in its service.” He paused, considering his words. “Have you ever given much thought to Almyra’s place in your world?” 

Edelgard blinked a few times. “Almyra? They have no crest system, and while I’m sure that their political system could use reforms, I don’t know it like I do Fodlan’s. So long as Almyra remains peaceful during Fodlan’s transition to its new society, I would ensure that whoever takes over for me understands that they aren’t the great and terrible enemy Rhea’s system makes them out to be. Perhaps in time, Fodlan and Almyra could have a friendly relationship, instead of an antagonistic one. The same could be said of Dagda, Brigid, or Sreng… I would love to see a world where Fodlan lived in peace with its neighbors, instead of trying to lord over them.”

Claude sucked in a sharp breath. “Damn.” He shook his head again, and chuckled. “ _Damn_ … We really should have tried to talk to you, instead of killing you. I guess that’s what we get for allying with the Church of Seiros for manpower. Still, though… To know that you would have been an asset, instead of standing in my way… What a waste.”

Edelgard gasped as a realization hit her: “Your dream isn’t just for Fodlan, it’s for Almyra, too. Perhaps even more than it is for Fodlan. In fact, I think I’ve gotten at least some of the answers my other self was looking for...” Claude stared at her, then sighed. “Got it in one. You’re a lot smarter than I give you credit for, which is why I’m cutting this short.” He paused, then stood up, stepping away from the wall. “Maybe we’ll continue this another time, but… Let’s leave it at this for now: my dream today is different from my old one. All I want is for Almyra to be safe, to grow, to be peaceful and prosper… Believe me when I say that I will do anything I have to do to make that happen.”

Edelgard and Hubert stared at each other as Claude sauntered out of the room, leaving a chill in the air when he’d gone. 

\---

Dimitri was unusually nervous as he tried to shovel breakfast into his mouth. The meeting later that morning was apparently unusual for several reasons - according to Edelgard, it was much earlier in the day than Byleth usually held them, and it would mark the first such meeting that occurred without Sothis. Dimitri was still struggling to wrap his mind around the implications of what he’d been told about Byleth. Somehow this woman had come to be bound together with the _literal Goddess of Fodlan_ , who was now no longer in this world. Despite the rather staggering implications for the Seirosian faith, he found it incredibly strange that the Goddess herself would while away her time leading meetings. He pictured the serene, white-robed woman with huge, white wings from the Church’s grand fresco in the cathedral sitting at the head of a war table while sighing and rubbing her temples, and snickered to himself.

Dedue looked over at him in surprise. He had, under the _very_ watchful eye of Hubert von Vestra, explained what Edelgard had told him to his vassal the previous night, but he worried that Dedue might be concerned that he was going mad. Perhaps he _was_ , and this whole thing was a joke being played on him - though his ghosts had stayed quiet for a while, perhaps his mind was simply coming apart in new and exciting ways. He sighed and pushed his plate away, his food mostly untouched. Dedue eyed him warily, but said nothing. He didn’t need to, though - Dimitri knew what his taciturn friend would say, if he did speak. “I apologize, Dedue. I simply find myself without an appetite, given…” 

“Given what, Your Highness? Got yourself a hot date this afternoon?” Sylvain crashed down into a seat opposite Dimitri, and they were soon joined by Ingrid, who looked tired, and Felix, who was being unusually reserved. “Ah… Not quite. I have a meeting to attend later this morning, and find myself nervous.” Sylvain’s bronze eyes sparkled. “Oh, a _meeting_ , huh? Is that what they” - he dodged out of the way of Ingrid’s oncoming elbow - “call it when you’re royalty? Have fun, then!” Ingrid looked at him apologetically, but he waved his hand, a smile dawning on his face. “I hope that it will be productive and enlightening… And, while I have the three of you here, there is actually something that I wanted to ask of you.” 

His childhood friends all stared at him, expectantly. “Once my meeting is through, I wish to make good on a promise I made to Sylvain some time ago. I want to… Rather, no, I _need_ to tell you about Duscur.” Ingrid let out a small gasp, but otherwise stayed silent. Her eyes widened, but went narrow almost immediately after. Sylvain smiled wider than Dimitri had seen in a long time, and he slapped a hand onto Felix’s shoulder, startling the prickly swordsman out of the contemplative look that had overtaken him. “Looks like I win, Fe. Pay up.” Felix swore under his breath, and reached for his coin purse. Ingrid pinched the brow of her nose, and muttered “Sorry, Your Highness”.

Dimitri was confused, but unfortunately for him, Edelgard and Hubert picked that exact moment to come over to the Blue Lions’ table. “Good morning, all”, Edelgard said, her voice polite and measured. “You won’t mind if I borrow Dimitri for a while, will you?” His friends all exchanged meaningful looks with one another, and Sylvain spoke for the group. “Go right ahead. Hopefully it’s a fruitful morning for you.” Dimitri’s mind flipped from bewilderment at Sylvain’s words to shock as he realized that his red-headed friend had a rare genuine smile on his face as he addressed Edelgard. Edelgard stepped back, allowing him and Dedue room to stand, and soon the four of them were on their way out of the dining hall, heading towards the administration building.

As they walked, Dimitri spoke up. “I am unsure how you managed it, exactly, but Sylvain seems to respect you a great deal, El. To see him interact with another woman besides Ingrid without attempting to be… well… I’m surprised, I suppose.” Edelgard laughed softly. “Oh please, it’s not as though it was that difficult. All I had to do was be genuine to him, in spite of his usual way with women. He’s a good man, underneath all of that.” Dimitri nodded. “He is indeed… You know, I’m planning on telling them the story of what happened to me at Duscur later. If… If you aren’t busy, I feel as though you deserve to know as well, since our shared mother…” He trailed off, suddenly finding words to be more challenging than he had previously reckoned them to be. Edelgard hummed, and as they reached the top of the stairs that spilled out onto the second floor of the administration building, she caught his hand, and gave it a small squeeze. “I would be honored to be there, Dimitri.” He smiled, elation finally knocking loose the nervousness that had consumed him for the entire morning so far.

As they reached the door to Captain Jeralt’s office, Edelgard made a point to demonstrate a very particular patterned knock. The door cracked open to reveal a green eye, and Edelgard led them into the room. He made eye contact with Byleth, who was now standing against the nearby wall, her brow furrowed. She smiled weakly at him and Dedue as she took notice of them, and he returned it before glancing around the room. He was unsurprised to see Captain Jeralt at his desk, a scowl on his face, but the other faces he recognized confused him greatly. Hilda, one of the Golden Deer students that he had found himself fighting alongside several times now, was lounging on one of Jeralt’s couches. Her eyes got very wide when she spotted him, but evidently there was some sort of rule in place regarding what, if anything, was said before the meeting started, as Byleth shot her a sharp look.

Sitting next to Hilda, and without the smile he was so used to seeing on her face, was Flayn, and beside her was Seteth. His expression betrayed nothing, though he did spend a little time examining Dimitri’s face before nodding in greeting to him. He returned the silent greeting, and slid his eyes behind Seteth, to the corner opposite the door. Standing there, _somehow_ , was Yuri of House Rowe, the adopted son of Count Rowe, who had gone missing after his time in the Officer’s Academy. Dimitri stared openly at the purple-haired man, who grimaced as he realized who had come in. Next to him was a veritable mountain of a man, with thick black hair and a long overcoat. With a start, Dimitri realized that the man had no undershirt on, and spent a moment or two longer than he had meant to taking in the absurd definition of his muscular torso. Edelgard coughed, and nodded to the couch opposite Hilda, Flayn, and Seteth.

He sat down next to Edelgard, and looked back at Dedue. His vassal was surveying the room disinterestedly, and appeared content to stand behind him, like Hubert was doing for Edelgard. Dimitri felt badly about this, though there was nothing he could rightly do about it - all the seats in the room besides the one next to Edelgard were now taken, and he knew that Dedue would never agree to take that spot.

Byleth’s face lit up for a moment as another knock sounded at the door, but when she opened it, evidently it was not who she had been waiting to see, given how crestfallen she looked before she quickly hid her emotions away. The newcomers were a pair of green-haired men, one tall and lanky, the other shorter, stocky, and muscled. The taller of the two was covered in soot, while the shorter had a quiver slung over his shoulder, and a little blood on his tunic. Both men eyed him warily, their green eyes watching his icy blue ones. With a start, he realized that they both had similar faces to Seteth and Flayn, and that the four of them shared eye and hair colors, the same odd shade of green as Byleth’s new hair and eyes, as well... Before he could muse on it any further, though, Byleth cleared her throat.

“Ethur, Cernunnos. I don’t suppose either of you have seen my brother? He’s our last…” Her brother? Professor Byleth had a brother? That was news to Dimitri, though evidently not to anyone in the room besides himself and Dedue. The two green-haired men exchanged a glance, before the taller of them spoke. “I am afraid not. I was at the forge until Cernunnos came to find me.” Byleth sighed, then turned her attention to Flayn, who shrank under the Professor’s gaze. “Flayn… What about you? Have you seen him?” The young girl looked _miserable_ , and she nodded. 

“I… I went to fetch him myself, this morning. He is, er… Feeling unwell. I do not mind relaying what is said today to him, afterwards.” Seteth, far from the open hostility he had seen on his face when men had the audacity to exist anywhere in his sister’s presence (though this was perhaps exacerbated by it being _Sylvain_ he was remembering), sighed sadly, and nodded. “That seems a wise plan to me. He is likely suffering in his own way. It is kind of you to offer, Flayn.” A small smile broke through Flayn’s gloominess, which made the room feel warmer, somehow. Byleth hummed in agreement, then sighed again. She went over to the door, and began casting the Muffling spell across it, the walls, the ceiling, and the floor. Finished, she crossed the room and sank onto the couch next to Edelgard. All the others in the room gave her a questioning look, but evidently accepted it without comment when she shook her head.

“Well, friends… This meeting is going to be a little odd.” She forced a little half-smile, but Dimitri was not fooled. “For one, we have some newcomers. For those who are unaware, this is Dimitri, prince of Faerghus, and his retainer, Dedue Molinaro.” Dimitri managed a sheepish smile when his name was called; Dedue nodded silently. “For two… Claude is not able to attend today. If I didn’t need to have this meeting urgently, I would have tried to delay, but... “ She sighed again, before squaring her shoulders. “In his place, he’s sent Balthus.” She nodded her head towards the mountain of a man in the corner, who flashed a toothy grin. “I only agreed to this because I trust Balthus - no one else gets to try substituting out, understood?”

She rubbed her temples a little. Before she could speak again, Hilda piped up. “Well, I for one am _super_ happy to see Baltie again - and _Dimitri_ too! He’s early though… I thought you said he wasn’t going to join the Secret Time Travel Club until the Red Wolf Moon, Professor?” Dimitri flinched - time travel? What was she _talking_ about? He looked at Edelgard, then at Byleth. Byleth groaned. “Edelgard… I thought you briefed him. And Hilda, please, can we not call it that?” The pink-haired warrior shook her head, twintails flapping around her. “No can do! Unless you’ve got a better name, that’s what I’m calling it.” Edelgard, meanwhile, was staring downwards, her hands in her lap. 

“I’m sorry, Byleth. I tried, but we were interrupted. I did at least inform him, in part, as to the nature of our enemy, and about your… condition.” Byleth stifled a laugh at that. “Condition? You make it sound like she was an ulcer or something... “ She smiled, but it fell away quickly as melancholy radiated off of her in waves.

“Well, I guess that’s fine. We need to catch Balthus up to speed, anyway, so it won't be wasted time. But, before we do… I need to make an announcement, though I think most of you are aware of what’s happened already.” Byleth took a deep breath, then stood, crossing over to Jeralt’s desk to lean forward over it for a moment. She drummed her fingers on the wood, then spun around. “By now, you’ve all heard about the attack last week. Those Who Slither in the Dark attempted to kidnap Flayn while distracting us with demonic beasts.” She looked around, waiting for everyone to acknowledge that they had at least heard of the attack. Balthus looked confused, but his understanding was evidently not her concern right now. “Well… In that attack, I found myself overwhelmed, as Yuri and myself went toe to toe with several fierce combatants. I ran out of Divine Pulses, and several of those here today would have died, had Sothis not… Had she not merged with me. Sothis is gone now.”

The green-haired quartet all looked downwards, somber expressions on their faces. The stocky one sniffled a little. Hilda and Yuri each looked shocked, but said nothing. Jeralt, from behind where Dimitri was seated, let out a quiet “Fucking hell…” Byleth sighed. “I… I still haven’t completely come to terms with it myself, but… From now on, it’s just me. Some part of her lives on in me, but it’s not the same.” Yuri looked down towards his feet. “Well, damn… If that was the price for saving us…” Byleth cut him off with a growl. “Don’t even _think_ that, Yuri. There is _nothing_ I would not do to save any one of you from danger. I’ve risked my life a thousand times over for the people I care about, and I’ll gladly do it another thousand times. Sothis… She knew my heart, and I know for a fact that she felt the very same way.”

A tense silence fell over the room, which was broken by Seteth. “Despite this loss, we came away from the attack with more than we had before. Firstly, Solon was unmasked, and has not attempted to resume his disguise. We are, for the moment, without any enemy eyes and ears at Garreg Mach, unless some new threat has moved in that we are unaware of. Secondly, we managed to capture both the Death Knight and the black knight from Byleth’s battle in Gaspard several moons ago.” Byleth nodded. “I plan on interrogating the latter of those over the coming days. Hopefully we’ll get something actionable from him.”

She sighed. “In the meantime… It’s time to catch those of us who aren’t aware of everything up to speed.” Byleth then launched into an incredible tale - a crusade across time, with the stated goal of protecting the lives of all the people Byleth had come to care for in lifetimes that, to them, had never happened. She described battles Dimitri would have taken part in, tragedy giving way to triumph… All of which had been facilitated by the very Goddess of Fodlan herself, Sothis. 

She then talked about her “current” lifetime: how Claude had somehow retained his memories from her previous lifetime, how Bereth had mysteriously popped into existence for some reason (though she emphasized that she was delighted to have a brother like him - Flayn’s face drooped during this bit, which struck Dimitri as odd), and the changes that she had managed to make from a “normal” lifetime. Byleth’s melancholy waxed and waned as she spoke, but at the end she had a small smile on her face. She looked over towards Dimitri, and addressed him directly. “So, now you understand why Hilda called this group of ours the, er… You know.” “The Secret Time Travel Club!”, the pink-haired girl jubilantly sang out. Byleth sighed in exasperation.

“Yes, well… In any event, it’s time to get down to business. If you, Dedue, or Balthus have any questions for me, or need something clarified, please feel free to stay after we’re done. Otherwise, let’s get on with this.” She squared her shoulders, and walked back over to the couch, setting down next to Edelgard. Dimitri caught her whispering “You did well, Byleth”, though he almost thought he’d imagined it, as her lips barely moved. The only clues that he hadn’t were the small blush on Edelgard’s face, and the faint smile on Byleth’s.

“The main issue I want to bring up is Rhea. I don’t think that I’m going to be able to keep everything from her that I mentioned wanting to at our last meeting. Sothis merging with me has accelerated my timetable, and… Well, I’ll just admit it - I’m completely out of what I know, now. Normally, Flayn’s kidnapping wouldn’t have blown Solon’s cover, and it wouldn’t be until the end of the Red Wolf Moon that he would reveal himself. Our merger normally doesn’t occur until the Guardian Moon, and then the war breaks out during the Pegasus and Lone Moons. With Solon unaccounted for, we need to be prepared for anything. Additionally, as per Edelgard’s report, Solon and Thales are no longer in alignment. We need to be cognizant of that, going forward.”

She grimaced. “I don’t want to tell Rhea about this group, because it means coming clean about a lot of things that I’ve kept from her. In particular, it would require her knowing that I have chosen to fight against her in the past. In other lifetimes, that rejection has been enough to drive her to attack me and my students. But, at the same time… If we’re going to be in a strong position to respond to, or possibly even _strike_ _at_ Those Who Slither in the Dark, we need Rhea, and thus the Church of Seiros, on our side.” Dimitri shifted uncomfortably.

“Are you saying, Professor, that we are _not_ on the side of the Church?” Next to him, Edelgard sighed softly. Seteth suddenly stared very intently at Byleth. She blinked for a moment or two, processing his question. “Well… We’re not against the church right now, unless Rhea does something unacceptable and forces my hand. But we’re also not aligned with the church, either. I know it’s unusual for anything or anyone in Fodlan to be neutral when it comes to the church, but that’s where we are.” He hummed. “An unenviable position.”

Byleth chuckled. “Oh, you don’t know the half of it. In any event… I want to bring it to a vote. Do we bring Rhea into this now, or wait for things to potentially calm down a little first? Please keep in mind that I will be revealing a little of my knowledge to her anyway so that I can interrogate our captive Agarthan. All those in favor of bringing her in fully now, raise your hands.” Dimitri couldn’t see why she shouldn’t be involved, so he raised his hand. Dedue followed his lead. Glancing around, he noticed Seteth raise his hand, followed by Ethur and Cernunnos. Flayn, to his surprise, kept her hand down, and would not meet her brother’s gaze. Byleth nodded. 

“Those opposed, raise your hands.” Edelgard’s hand rocketed upwards next to him, followed by Hubert’s. Hilda and Yuri raised their hands, and a noise from behind him alerted him to Jeralt shifting in his chair as he raised his hand. Interestingly, neither Balthus nor Flayn had voted either time. Byleth sighed. “Five to five… Balthus, why didn’t you vote?” Balthus stirred in the corner where he’d been leaning for the entire meeting. “Well, pal, truth be told this all seems a little over my head. Claude just sent me here to hear what was going on, not to vote for him. And I can tell I don’t know _nearly_ enough about this whole thing to have an opinion that matters.” Byleth eyed him carefully, then nodded. “That’s fair. Thank you, Balthus.” She turned her attention to Flayn, who appeared to be trying very hard to turn invisible.

Byleth stood, and walked over to the other couch, crouching down in front of Flayn. She leaned in close, and whispered something Dimitri couldn’t make out in Flayn’s ear. Seteth’s eyes went wide at whatever it was, but he remained quiet. Flayn whispered something back, then threw her arms around Byleth’s neck. Byleth patted her on the back gently before extricating herself and returning to her spot on the other couch. She cleared her throat. “Well, then. We’re at an impasse. As the tie-breaking vote, I vote against it.” Sighs of disappointment from the green-haired men in the room mixed with a sigh of relief from Edelgard. He found it odd - Edelgard was fairly vehement in her disagreement with the archbishop, for some reason. He made a mental note to talk to her about that, some time.

“My personal mission for this moon, then, will be to feed Rhea what information she needs to know so that I can operate, and watch her carefully. We’ll vote again next month, barring any unexpected events. Edelgard, I need you to make contact with Thales and inquire what he wants done about Solon. I imagine he won’t be very happy with him for acting unilaterally. I’m going to tell you now that Rhea and I will be placing layered wards on his cell later today, in case he asks you to attempt to free Anacharsis. I’d also like you to come along with me for the first part of our interrogation - I want the Death Knight on our side, rather than theirs. Yuri, you’re on double agent duty as well. If Rhea makes any moves, I want to know about them. Seteth, Ethur, and Cernunnos, I need the three of you to watch Rhea when I’m not around. Report anything concerning to me directly. As for the rest of you… Do whatever you can to support each other. We can do this, as long as we trust in our bonds with each other.”

She stood, and sighed. “Alright. Meeting adjourned.”

\---

Flayn left the meeting almost the instant she could. She couldn’t _stand_ the thought of Father cornering her to ask why she had refused to bring Auntie into their group, and she felt so _odd_ talking to Byleth now. On the one hand, she could very clearly see and feel when little bits of Grandmother shone through into Byleth’s actions and mannerisms, and those little moments warmed her heart so much. Just like earlier...

She replayed Byleth’s words to her from the meeting, which had been in shockingly perfect Nabatean: “ _Are you okay, little dragon? Can you not bring yourself to choose when it comes to family? If so, I understand. You can leave it to me, for now_.” It had overwhelmed her at first, but she managed to at least squeak out “ _I cannot. Thank you, Byleth_.” And yet… Byleth’s whole being radiated sadness. She clearly was in the throes of a pain more intense that Flayn had ever known, and there was _nothing_ she could do to make it better. Now, with the issue of Bereth’s parentage, she suddenly didn’t know if she had the right to do as Byleth had asked, or if Byleth even had the right to ask… 

It was so… She growled, not bothering to check if she was truly alone first, and not even really _caring_ if she were honest with herself. Her growls were still rather tame compared to Father, or Uncle Macuil, but it was still a far more unsettling sound than someone would expect from someone as petite and young-looking as she still was.

Her emotions were a huge, confusing mess in her mind, like someone had taken giant balls of twine and hurled them to and fro for hours on end. She was vaguely aware of Father calling her name - not her true name, of course, as they had elected to keep that information from Byleth’s group whenever possible - but she ignored it. Her feet carried her towards Bereth’s chambers. Her chest felt tight - he had been in a bad way when she spoke to him earlier, and she had a horrible, sinking feeling when she thought about him having been left alone for this long.

She reached his door without interruption, and steeled herself as best she could. She knocked, calling into the door “Bereth? It’s Flayn! I…” She paused, waiting to hear if he acknowledged her presence or not. After a few moments of silence, she knocked again, then said “I’m coming in, alright?” She was met with more silence, which she chose to mean that he accepted her presence, perhaps even welcomed her in.

Bereth’s chambers were odd. For a man - a young human, that is, of course - his personal quarters had quite the odd personality to them. She had expected to see books lining every wall, and was not disappointed. In addition to the ones on his many, many shelves, he had stacks of them next to, and in some cases _on_ every seating area available. They all looked heavy and complex, if she were to judge by their covers. But somewhat surprisingly, he also had plants everywhere, ranging from small succulents, to flowering plants, to a very tall and well-kempt bladeweed plant in a pot next to the door. The floral scent was enough to make her heart want to sing, but the sour notes in the air from Bereth himself were impossible to ignore right now.

Next to the door was a shoe rack, which in other circumstances would likely have been very neat and orderly. Now, though, he had simply haphazardly thrown his boots at the rack. She sighed and straightened it up, before removing her own shoes and placing them in the rack next to his boots. Next to the shoe rack was a large pot, filled with numerous magical staves. His cloak was draped over an armchair, and a dark stain on the edge of it indicated that he had spilled some sort of alcohol onto it. Perhaps this was his attempt to dry it? Empty mugs littered the living space, many of them stolen from the dining hall. She resisted the urge to chuckle at what likely had been a few absent-minded mistakes on his part that had coalesced into an embarrassing mess he was evidently refusing to face. She decided to gather all of them up, borrowing his cloak to hold them all. She would take them in for him when she was done here, so that he did not have to face the wrath of the dish-washers.

As her eyes adjusted to the low light, she peeked through the living room into his sleeping area. Bereth himself was there, lying motionless on his back. His eyes were open, and the slow rise and fall of his chest told her that her worst fears hadn’t been realized, at least. He didn’t stir, or even acknowledge her presence at all as she clinked mugs together. Her labor finished, she moved into his sleeping area, warily. This was the first time she’d ever been in this part of his quarters, or indeed into the bedroom of _anyone_ who wasn’t family. A pang of sadness pierced her heart as she turned that thought over in her head. All of this pain was caused by that book… It was usually good to know the truth of things, but if she _ever_ got her hands on whoever that meddling man in Abyss had been, she would throttle him.

She stepped nearer to his bed, and finally made eye contact with him. His eyes were red and puffy, and the tell-tale sheen of dried tear tracks were evident on his face. He shifted positions, curling in on his side, making room for her to sit down next to him. She smiled faintly, and sat. She placed a hand on his arm - he was cold to the touch, and that felt _wrong_. “Bereth? I-I… I’ve come to check up on you, and tell you about the meeting… If you wanted to hear about it.” She tried to keep her voice calm and level, but it was evidently in a mood to betray her. Bereth didn’t respond. He just sat there, blinking every now and then. She scooted back against his torso, trying to will her own inner fire to warm him up. 

“Or… if you aren’t in the mood to talk, we can just stay here, like this. I do not mind…” That was, of course, partially a lie. She very much _did_ mind, and wanted desperately to hear his voice, even just a little. Her chest tightened again when he cleared his throat, and hoarsely croaked out “Stay…” She nodded furiously, and tried to remember the breathing exercises that Uncle Indech had taught her for combatting anxiety. Something about focusing on the breath, and letting other sensations pass into and out of the mind without dwelling on them? She almost growled in annoyance - how could she possibly let things go like that _now_? - but stopped herself so as not to worry Bereth.

They sat there in silence for a while. Her mind was working double time, trying to come up with things to say to draw Bereth out of his shell, but eventually she decided that he would simply talk when he was ready. Nabateans literally did have all the time in the world, after all… She would simply wait.

She wasn’t sure how long it had been when he next spoke. It was so unexpected, she couldn’t help herself from startling at the sound. “I’m a liar, Cethleann…” 

He sounded so _dejected_ , it broke her heart. She shook her head gently, releasing the magic that kept her hair from moving too far and letting her ears poke out. For some reason, Bereth seemed to like looking at them. It seemed a little embarrassing, but she wanted to give him any excuse to find happiness right now. Meanwhile, she considered her options, and finally brought herself to respond gently.

“Why do you say that, Bereth?” He let out a small scoff. “Because I am one. I… You were there today. You saw them both… Jeralt… Byleth… I’ve _lied_ to them both, for _months_ … They think I’m family, but I…” He sighed, and trailed off.

She shook her head again. “Oh Bereth… I don’t think you can really call it lying. Neither you nor they knew any of this even two days ago. For what it’s worth, they _still_ don’t know, and you haven’t been around them to _actually_ lie.” He grimaced. “That doesn’t make it better… I’ve taken Byleth’s time, and attention, and love… It should all go to her, not me.”

Flayn set her face in what she hoped came across as a concerned scowl, and looked at him. “Now, you listen to me. Just because you were not literally birthed from Sitri does not mean that you are not her son. You read the journal - you know that she _chose_ to raise you as her own. So what if you did not share a womb with Byleth? Family can be more than blood, Bereth.”

He sighed again. “You say that, but at least you _have_ blood family… I… What _am_ I, Cethleann? Am I even human? Humans don’t just… appear places.” He drew his arms in towards his chest, leaving her hand behind on the bed where his arm had been. “If I’m not human… It would be better for both of them if I just cut my ties with them… They’d be better off without me. Everyone would.” 

She stayed very still - this conversation had strayed dangerously close to her own identity. He knew that she was Cethleann, and he knew that her family was extraordinarily long-lived, but he had never seemed to grasp that these were impossibilities for a human. But Bereth was hurting, and to get to the point where he was talking like _this_ … Secrecy be damned.

“Bereth… _I_ am not human. Does that make me any less worthy of love, in your opinion?” Bereth’s eyes widened, and he looked directly at her for the first time. “Of course not! You’re… But I… It isn’t the same, Cethleann.” She huffed softly at him. “Isn’t it? Humans are not the only ones who are worthy of love. Those of us who are not human, which I feel I should remind you does not _necessarily_ include you, are still fully capable of giving and receiving love, and are every bit as worthy of it. I have gotten to see into Jeralt and Byleth’s hearts over these past few moons, and I know for a fact that they would not care _what_ you are. You are family to them, and I feel confident in saying that nothing could ever change that, even this revelation.”

She sighed. “Let us look at it another way. Suppose you _were_ not human. That does not matter to me - I am not human either. It would certainly never stop me from lo-- Er. Well. That is to say… If you suggest that you, as a non-human, were unworthy of love, that would necessarily mean that I, as a non-human, were also not worthy of love. But if you believe that I am, you must also be. It does not work to have one without the other, Bereth.” She silently thanked the darkness of the bedroom for hiding how fierce her blush was - she _had_ to be more careful with her words. She had almost… She kicked her feet in frustration, hoping that he hadn’t noticed her slip-up.

When she turned her attention back to him, she found a thoughtful expression on his face, but nothing that betrayed that he was suspicious of her. She let out a sigh of relief. They fell into silence once again, until it was broken by her stomach rumbling. “Oh, dear…” 

He looked at her, concerned. “Cethleann… Have you eaten at all since I saw you yesterday? You spent so much time with me… I don’t recall you ever leaving, except for the night.” She smiled sheepishly at him. “I… Well… I suppose it slipped my mind.” Incredibly, he found enough of himself to click his tongue at her. “Please go get something to eat. I… I will be here when you’re done, if you wanted to come back…” She smiled down at him. “I suppose I ought to. But! I will be bringing food back for you, and we shall eat together.”

She then got one of her _interesting_ thoughts, and smiled wider. After leaning in to ruffle his hair, she stood up, brushing her dress off and reapplying the magic that kept her hair in place. “You know, Bereth… Since you weren’t born of Sitri, that means that the two of us do not actually share any blood. I must admit… I have never been alone with a man who is not blood-related to me. The thought intrigues me, though I’m sure Father would have words to say about it. Perhaps he does not need to know, hmm?“ His eyes widened slightly, but before he had a chance to respond, she laughed. “In any event, I shall be back shortly with food. Please wait for me.” She grabbed his cloak, which she fashioned into a makeshift bindle with one of the longer, sturdier-looking staves, and left for the dining hall, mugs clinking and clanking together as she beamed with joy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vote for Marianne in CYL 5 because she's a sweetie and deserves it, or Dedue for similar reasons!
> 
> \---
> 
> Gee Claude, that sure was an ominous way to end a serious conversation about your goals and dreams. In any event, I'm glad that we finally got to this conversation. You may have an idea about why I couldn't have it happen earlier in the fic than this, but I won't be confirming anything in the comments. Suffice it to say that both of them are in different places than they would be in canon around this time, but Claude now knows for sure that his old self *could* have allied with Edelgard if he'd been less secretive, and more willing to reach out his hand. 
> 
> Bladeweed = snake grass. It was my first plant, and I loved that thing. It never died, either, even though I neglected it a lot. Bereth is a better plant dad than I am, by far, though.
> 
> Oh, right. This is as good a time to mention this as any. This isn't even a headcanon thing as much as it's just extrapolating actual canon, but, Nabateans don't have regular hearts. All of them have Crest Stones at their hearts. Maybe they have the actual fleshy, beating organ around those, maybe not. I'm inclined to say no, though, since Byleth could function just fine with an unbeating heart and a Crest Stone in her chest.


	36. Into Darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth and Rhea take a swing at interrogation, Edelgard has a zoom call, Hilda does some sleuthing, and Byleth introduces a new training strategy for the Battle of the Eagle and Lion.

By the mid-afternoon of the 5th of the Wyvern Moon, Byleth was growing impatient. It was odd for Rhea to make her wait this long under normal circumstances, much less given recent events. She leaned against the wall next to the audience chamber doors, tapping her foot. In the distance, she heard the bells toll out four o’clock. Rhea was now nearly two hours late.

Soon after the bells quieted down, she heard footsteps coming up the stairs to the second floor, as well as footsteps coming from the third floor down towards her. The former arrived first - it was Edelgard, who had a very somber expression on her face. Byleth hid a grimace as her house leader approached her - she must have just come from hearing Dimitri recount the details of the Tragedy of Duscur, as he’d mentioned that morning after their meeting. While Edelgard was tough mentally, she made a mental note to at least check in with her when they had a spare moment.

Despite the circumstances of Edelgard’s day, she did at least manage a faint smile at Byleth when she drew near. Unfortunately, they had no time to exchange a further greeting before a very frustrated-looking Macuil swept down the stairs from the third floor. His green eyes widened as he caught sight of her, and he approached almost immediately after spotting her.

“The archbishop will see you now…” He growled softly, causing Byleth to cock an eyebrow. “What kept her so long?” Macuil shook his head. “It’s… You’ll see. I know you said you intended to bring this Hresvelg you’re so fond of with you,” - Edelgard sputtered slightly, both indignant and embarrassed at being addressed as such - “but there’s no way you’re going to get that past her as she is right now. My advice would be to take note of the path you’ll be taking, and… Well, let’s just say that, after spending my afternoon putting new locks on those particular cells at her _request_ before she transferred the prisoners into them, I have the strangest feeling that I might accidentally misplace my spare master key to them in your quarters.” She stifled a laugh, nodding to the irritable Saint. 

“I appreciate it. Sorry you had to spend so long on this. I’ll try to calm her down some, if I can.” He sighed, and nodded his head. “I appreciate the offer… And I suppose I see better now why you were so wary, earlier. In any event… Good luck.” With that, Macuil departed down the stairs. Byleth and Edelgard stared after him, silent for a moment. Then, Edelgard spoke up. “Well, I suppose we shall have to reschedule?” Byleth hummed, formulating a new plan. 

“I’ll find a time to get us both down there without anyone being aware of it... In the meantime, I’ll talk to our mutual friend a little while Rhea and I are down there. He probably won’t listen to me, but that’s fine. I also want to recover the Rafail Gem from his armor. If memory serves, he always has it on him while he fights.” Edelgard’s eyes widened briefly, though she quickly returned to a neutral expression and nodded. “Indeed. I am not sure how to get to it, though I believe it is inside a hidden compartment in his breastplate.”

Byleth smiled mischievously. “Oh, don’t worry. I know exactly where it is, and how to get it out. Trust me, I’ve done it a few times before.” Edelgard sighed. “I don’t want to know what you mean by that… In any event, please be careful. If M-- Ethur of all people is finding Rhea implacable right now, it must be severe. Though it pains me to, I will take my leave.” Byleth’s smile smoothed out, and she sighed softly. “I suppose… Take care, El.” The white-haired girl had not taken more than a few steps away before Byleth called out again. “Oh, and, get plenty of rest tonight. You and the rest of the Eagles are going to need it come tomorrow morning.” Edelgard grimaced, but nodded. Byleth waited until the sound of her footsteps faded away, then steeled herself for the short climb up towards Rhea’s chambers.

She knocked on the large wooden doors, though the voice that answered with “Enter” betrayed quite a lot of agitation in its owner. Byleth slipped inside, and almost immediately slammed down her neutral mask as she took in the sight waiting for her. Rhea had a wild look in her eye, though if that were the only concerning thing it might as well have been any other day. Far more worrisome was what Rhea was wearing. Rather than her flowing archbishop’s robes, cope, and headdress, Rhea was dressed for battle. Byleth recognized the armor all too well, and shuddered a little as she caught sight of the winged headband. Her personal shield, glowing white in the sunlight that filtered in through her windows, was strapped to her left arm, and her right hand gripped tightly onto the hilt of her flamberge. Its tip wavered - her sword arm was shaking.

Neither woman spoke for a moment. Finally, Byleth decided that she had to do _something_. She pinched the bridge of her nose, and let out a long sigh. “Rhea… What do you think you’re doing?” Rhea fixed Byleth in an intense stare, but Byleth refused to back down from her gaze. Eventually, Rhea let out a small growl. “You are injured, and in no shape to protect yourself. I _will_ _not_ lose you, so it falls to me to protect you.” The tone of her voice was what one would take with a particularly insistent toddler, and it rubbed Byleth the wrong way entirely. 

From deep within herself, Byleth let out a low, rumbling growl of her own. Rhea’s eyes widened. “I do not appreciate being treated like a child. You don’t get to play at being a knight because I can’t swing a sword right now. You are the archbishop of the Church of Seiros, and if you leave this room dressed like that, everyone is going to know that something about you is not what it seems. Do you want that?” Rhea balked a little, and then held very still. “Well, of course I do not, but--” “But _nothing_. Listen to me - I don’t need a sword to defend myself. Even before I… Before it happened, I was an accomplished mage. With the power available to me now, I could destroy armies. So take that ridiculous outfit off, leave your weapons here, and let’s _go_. We’re already late as it is.”

Rhea looked sullen from the scolding Byleth had given her. Hold on… Where had _that_ come from? She felt warmer and lighter, and before she knew it, a small smile crept through her mask. “I apologize for being a little harsh with you. Apparently there’s more of Sothis left in me than I realized… In any event, you _really_ don’t need to worry about me. Worry instead about the enemies who we don’t have locked away in Garreg Mach’s deepest prison cells. It’s because of them that I need to go down there to interrogate the ones we have. You understand, I’m sure. After all, how can I be a ‘savior’, like you said, if I don’t get more information about our enemy’s movements?”

Rhea nodded, slowly. “I apologize as well. Your work is… difficult, to say the least. I got the idea that I could help you with it, especially after it became a solitary affair, and I suppose I got carried away. I will leave my old trappings behind, if you truly wish it. But… What do you intend to do, exactly? I have been able to extract nothing from our prisoners.”

Byleth’s eyes narrowed. “You interrogated them without me?” Rhea looked away, and sighed. “I did, yes. I am also used to operating independently to protect Garreg Mach, and this sort of thing is routine for me when a threat emerges.” Byleth forced her voice to become more neutral. “I… see. I would have preferred you wait for me, but I suppose as long as they’re both still alive and whole, that’s fine. Now, enough talk. Get changed, and let’s be off.”

Ten minutes later, Rhea led Byleth down into the underground of Garreg Mach, through winding passages and secret doors. She paid special attention to the path they took to get down to where they were going, as Macuil had advised. Eventually the two of them reached a huge, dark chasm. Suspended within it was a floating cell block, held aloft by heavy chains that stretched upwards into the darkness. Rhea undid a ward, which caused a bridge to extend towards the cells. Though it seemed sturdy enough, Byleth did _not_ want to think about what waited for her if she slipped off of it on accident.

Thankfully, they made it to the cells without any mishaps. The first cell, which was immediately before them as they stepped off the bridge, held the unmistakable form of Jeritza von Hrym. He was in heavy manacles, and appeared to be meditating while kneeling on the metal floor of his cell. Byleth stood there for a moment, then quietly asked Rhea “Where are his things? There’s something I need to check about his armor. If you would be so kind…” Rhea nodded warily, and went further down the cell block, entering another cell. Jeritza looked up, and locked eyes with Byleth. His expression was unreadable, and Byleth was _tired_ of that with him. It was time to break that unflappable nature of his. Rhea returned with a box full of black armor, and set it down next to Byleth. She nodded in thanks, and then began to speak.

"I confess, I'm not sure which name to use for you." Jeritza looked at her blankly, but said nothing. She took it as an invitation to continue, smirking a little. "There is of course the Death Knight, but I have a feeling that if I were speaking to _him_ , all I'd get would be mooning nonsense about wanting to be 'pierced by that sword'. The man has a bit of a complex, you know." She could have sworn that for the barest hint of a moment, a faint smile warmed Jeritza's stern face, but it was gone when she took a second look.

"Then, of course, there's the name you've been living under for the last few years. Jeritza von Hrym, the sole, and false, heir of House Hrym. Not that I'm blaming E-- whoever placed you there. It was a brilliant move.” Rhea looked at Byleth in surprise at this revelation, but thankfully had the sense not to interrupt. Byleth continued, boring holes into his face with her eyes. “But... Then there's your original name, one that I'd wager only two people in this entire monastery besides myself would know. So, which would you prefer: Jeritza or Emile?" His blue eyes narrowed. "How do you know that name?"

She sighed, and began rummaging through his effects until she found his breastplate. "I can't tell you the full truth, but let's just say that I have certain knowledge available to me, as one bound to the goddess, and leave it at that." He scoffed. "The goddess... What has she ever done for my family? Why should she know me?" Byleth ignored him. "There's also the fact that you and your sister share the same hair color and eye color... And of course, this." She undid the ward on the inside of the breastplate, opening the hidden compartment within. 

As she laid her hand upon the large pendant sitting inside the armor, it blazed forth with red light. Visions of a laughing girl with wavy green hair flooded her mind, and tears pricked up at the corners of her eyes. " _Oh, Nessa_ ", she whispered, feeling the pain of the soul trapped within the Relic she now held aloft. She raised it to eye level for Rhea to see. Her eyes blew open as wide as they could at the activated Relic in Byleth’s hand. "The Rafail Gem, usually activated by the Crest of Lamine. Proof positive if ever there was any. I’ll be hanging onto this for the time being… I might consider returning it to you when you agree to work for me.” Predictably, Jeritza scoffed at her again. “I don’t take orders from you. There is but one who can compel me.” 

Byleth tucked the Rafail Gem into her coat, and noticed that Rhea’s eyes had not yet narrowed again. “I’ll be back, then. I suggest you get used to the idea of working for me. I get what I want, Emile. Though, I give you my word that I won’t breathe a word of your presence here to either of those who would know you, yet.” He lowered his head, then croaked out “Jeritza.” She quirked an eyebrow at him. “Very well. I get what I want, _Jeritza_.” Turning on her heel, she picked up the box of armor, and carried it back to the cell Rhea had retrieved it from. Rhea obviously had questions for her, but was at least tactful enough to keep them to herself for the moment.

Next, the two of them walked to the far end of the cell block. Inside the last cell, secured with more manacles and bindings than Byleth had ever seen before, was Anacharsis. His chains forced him into a kneeling position on the floor - likely Rhea’s intention was to humiliate him. Byleth frowned. “And so we meet again. I can’t say that I’m very happy to see you.” He raised his head up to look at her, and Byleth took advantage of the situation to get a good look at him.

Unmasked, he looked nothing like what she had expected. He had impossibly pale skin, though part of his face on the right side was marked with strange geometric tattoos that trailed down to his jawline, all done in black. His eyes were an incredibly bright electric blue, while what little hair he had (for the sides of his head were shaved, and the top was cropped short) was jet black. His nose was thin, and of middling length. Out of curiosity, she checked his ears - they were the familiar rounded shape common to humans, which for some reason gave her a huge sense of relief. A few metal studs poked through them at certain spots, and his earlobes had been artificially widened with small metal circles. Had he had a less jarring complexion, Byleth might have even thought he were handsome… 

Moving her eyes down from his face, Byleth noticed a number of strange devices and panels that stuck out from his body. It then occurred to Byleth that Rhea had left him completely exposed in his cell. Whether the Agarthan swordsman had actually worn nothing underneath his armor or not was a question she couldn’t get answered right now, but it annoyed her that Rhea decided to do this to him without at least consulting her. She resolved to at least find him a cloak or a tunic when she came back down here with Edelgard. She couldn’t leave him without something to preserve his modesty, if he even cared about that.

He watched her carefully, until she looked into his eyes directly. He couldn’t stand more than a moment or two of eye contact, though whether that was a general aversion to it, to women, or to her (or because of who she was as his people’s great enemy), Byleth did not know. She sighed. “You’ll be happy to know that you did some significant damage during our battle. If I were a normal human, you’d have easily killed me.” His pale lips curled into a sneer. “More’s the pity.” 

Rhea fumed next to her, and looked as though she were going to do something unpleasant. Byleth reached out a hand, and words came to her unbidden: “ _Peace, little dragon._ ” She recognized the sounds as Nabatean, though like with Flayn earlier in the day, she didn’t know _how_ she knew what to say. There was a pause as both women processed what happened, and Rhea suddenly turned away from her. Her shoulders trembled, and Byleth sighed again. 

Turning her attention back to Anacharsis, she approached the cell bars. She could feel the presence of two wards already - that was good. Her eyes wandered again to the strange things implanted into Anacharsis’ skin, before she started. He’d been down here for a _week_ already. 

“Have you had anything to eat since your capture?” A look of surprise flashed onto his face for a moment, before it was replaced with a glare. “As if I would accept anything from lowly beasts like you.” Byleth waited a moment before responding, refusing to fall for his barbs. “Contrary to what you may think, I don’t intend for you to die here. You’ve got too much information in that head of yours. So, let me explain how this is going to work. I’m going to ask you questions, and you will answer them to the best of your ability. Once we’re done, I can see about finding you some food.”

Anacharsis laughed, a cruel, mocking sound. “You expect me to cooperate with _you_? The Fell Star herself? Absurd.” Byleth narrowed her eyes. “Expect? No. You _will_. You’ll find that to be true before too long.” Angling his neck back, he attempted to spit at her, though his improvised projectile only managed to splash against the ground a few inches from her feet. “The only thing I will be doing, Fell Star, is escaping this pathetic prison. You beasts cannot hold me.” Byleth smirked at him.

“Is that so?” 

She stepped forward, and reached for the nearby wardstones. Instinct took over once more, and she pushed energy outwards, guiding it as Seteth had shown her, though with a far more malevolent bent to the intentions - _trap_ , _detain_ , _drain_ , and _break_. She let it go, and power flowed outwards. A shimmering golden barrier encircled Anacharsis’ entire cell, and she let herself take perverse satisfaction from the moment of unguarded despair on his face before he remembered himself. “Escape from this, and I’ll give you my neck, and an executioner’s axe for good measure. Now then… If you’re going to be nasty, I have much more important things to attend to than you. I’ll return at some point. Look forward to it.” She turned on her heel and began to march back toward the surface, a bewildered Rhea following behind her.

As they reached the other side of the bridge, which Rhea retracted in the same way she extended it, she finally found her voice. “What _was_ any of that? I thought you intended to interrogate him! Not to mention…” Byleth halted just before one of the secret doors they had passed through, and ran her fingers through her hair. “Well… He wasn’t going to talk. The ward I put up is going to sap his willpower. I don’t know how I know that, but I do. And… It’s the same story for what I said to you.” She sighed. “I’ve been having little… flashes, I guess you could call them? Moments where words or actions just come to me, and they feel _right_. Like what I said in your chambers, earlier. I don’t know if it’s Sothis or…” She hesitated - Rhea did _not_ need to know about that bizarre dream where she and Sothis met others of their kind, but the more this happened, the more she fixated on what she’d been told. “ _Mother said that when you come into your own, you will receive 'more than usual'..._ ”

She shook her head. “I can’t explain it exactly. But it’s only been helpful so far, so I’m fine with not knowing where it comes from.” She looked back at Rhea. The archbishop’s face was twisted up in worry. Byleth sighed. “Please don’t look at me like that. Playing things by ear is my specialty. I’ll be fine, Rhea. Now, come on, let’s get out of these horrible tunnels.” She pushed the door open, and stepped through it, trusting Rhea to follow her. She knew she would.

She took her leave of Rhea at the second floor of the administration building soon after, but before Rhea retired for the day, Byleth called out to her again. She turned, raising an eyebrow. “I have a request, actually. Since I’m _apparently_ not allowed to train, according to Flayn, I’m going to need some assistance making sure that my house is in top form before the Battle of the Eagle and Lion. And for that, I’m going to need you to make some temporary scheduling adjustments…” She smiled, imagining the dawning horror on her students’ faces when they went to the training hall tomorrow morning.

\---

Edelgard slipped inside one of the old, disused chapels on the outskirts of monastery grounds. Hubert was busying himself with the Muffling sigils to ensure that they wouldn’t be overheard, and bowed his head to her silently as she sat down in one of the creaky pews to wait. He moved towards the door, and cast a strange spell - it made the air in the doorway seem to shimmer and dance. It was likely some form of illusion magic, which Hubert had taken a special shine to when outside of battle situations. Evidently satisfied with their precautions, he moved back to join her. She stood, and the two of them made their way forward towards the pulpit in the front of the chapel, passing the altar rails along the way. Some part of her got a smug satisfaction out of twisting a formerly holy place for this purpose - it was like snubbing Rhea in some small way. Hubert placed a small black cube on top of the pulpit, and proceeded to fiddle with a small dial that stuck out on the side.

With an odd hiss, the cube’s magic sparked to life, and the pallid face of Thales hung suspended in the air over the lectern. It was faded, and clearly no more substantial than a painting, and yet it moved as a real person would. She could clearly see the irritation on his face, though she remembered to keep her own expression as neutral as she could. His voice, cold and clipped, issued out of the cube. “ _Edelgard. I don’t have time for pleasantries. Report on your situation immediately._ ” She nodded, still finding this Agarthan technology disconcerting. 

“The situation here is not good. Solon revealed himself like a fool, and his plan utterly failed. He had his little pet assassin with him, and I don’t know whether she’s still alive. _He_ evidently lost an arm. The Death Knight and Anacharsis were both captured by the church. The Professor has… I do not understand exactly what happened, but she has gained a tremendous amount of power, and now bears an appearance not unlike Rhea and her kin. Lastly, Solon sent two scores of demonic beasts into the Sealed Forest to distract from his direct assault. While only ten of them were crest beasts, none of them survived. I myself was hospitalized as a result, which is why I have only just been able to contact you.”

Thales growled, though the sound was somewhat garbled. “ _In a single day that fool has managed to set so many of our plans back... His obsession with blood experiments has jeopardized our entire operation! Furthermore, he has commandeered Research Facility Epsilon, and is now refusing all attempts to establish contact. First Aspasia, now Solon… I am_ surrounded _by idiots!_ ” His fist smashed onto the surface he had his own cube resting on, judging by how his image jerked.

Hubert spoke up, his voice grim. “Solon’s plan has jeopardized our position here tremendously, as well. Would it not be prudent to simply eliminate him? Or, better yet, would it not be ideal to allow _us_ to eliminate him? If the Academy students bear witness to Lady Edelgard burying her axe into his skull, it would prevent any information leaks that could come from our captured agents from implicating her in any meaningful way.”

Thales was silent for a moment, looking thoughtfully away from them. “ _That may indeed be best. However, any such action must be done carefully. It will take some time to fully isolate Epsilon from the rest of the network… I will inform you when it is time to move. Until then, you are to observe the Professor closely. I want a full report on the scope and nature of her power. Solon believed that she was the host of the Fell Star - if that is true, a very dangerous piece has been placed on the board, one that may need to be eliminated now, before it can do any real damage. As far as leaks are concerned, do not concern yourself with them. Anacharsis will never break. He would die before allowing that to happen._ ”

Edelgard nodded. “I understand. Even so, I will attempt to… remind him of his expectations. It should be simple enough to reach their holding cells undetected, though attempting to release them is out of the question. From what we have been able to gather, strong ward spells have been placed on their cells, in layers.” She inclined her head towards his image in what could academically be considered a bow. “I will not allow Solon’s failure to stop me.”

Thales smiled, a horrific, twisted smile that revealed sharp, yellowed teeth. “ _Good. Do not disappoint me. I would_ hate _for something tragic to befall my_ _darling_ _niece, or my dear nephew… It would be most unfortunate._ ” He laughed to himself, a grating sound that haunted her from her days in prison underneath the Imperial palace. Then, mercifully, his image disappeared. Hubert grabbed the little black cube and fiddled with it again before putting it inside a small pouch and concealing it within his uniform. The pouch had a Muffling sigil on it, and Edelgard raised an eyebrow as she caught sight of it. Hubert chuckled to himself. “It wouldn’t do for that little device to broadcast everything it is in earshot of.”

Edelgard smiled appreciatively at her retainer. “Thank you, Hubert. I wouldn’t know what to do without you.” He shook his head, though the ghost of a smile showed on his face for a moment. “You would manage well enough on your own. But since I _am_ here, it is my honor and my joy to make your path an easier one, Lady Edelgard.” She smiled wider, and the two of them left the chapel, walking back to the populated areas of Garreg Mach with no one noticing their absence. As they walked along the lower dorms towards the stairs to the second floor, Edelgard caught herself staring wistfully towards Byleth’s room. Hubert, of course, would notice the direction she was looking, but he said nothing about it, as ever. Hubert was a good person, despite his attempts to disguise it.

A small commotion ahead caught their attention, and as they drew level with Linhardt’s room, they took in a rather odd sight. Linhardt’s door was open, and sitting inside it were Linhardt himself, Hapi, Caspar, Ashe, and what seemed to be every single cat in the monastery. The mewling cacophony had been somewhat blocked by the stairwell, but as they drew closer, the sound of dozens of cats assaulted their ears. Far from looking displeased at the situation, all occupants of the room were laughing and smiling even while they were slowly buried alive in a sea of cats. Hapi in particular looked as though the weight of the world had been lifted off of her shoulders, and she sighed, very loudly, and very contentedly. Edelgard tensed - Hapi’s sighs called monsters, what were those four _thinking_?! - but was surprised to find that, rather than demonic beasts or giant wolves, even more cats came streaking in towards Linhardt’s room from all directions. The four of them finally noticed Edelgard and Hubert standing stunned at the base of the stairs, and waved at them, beckoning them closer.

“Linhardt? What in the world is going on here?” She glanced towards the normally sleepy mage, noticing a fire in his eyes that she had rarely seen before. “Ah, well, as you can see, we’ve managed to alter the odd curse that Hapi bears. Before, her sighs somehow interacted with her Crest, the Major Crest of Timotheos, and attracted all sorts of unpleasant creatures. While I couldn’t exactly figure out how to eliminate the summoning effect, we did work out a method to change _what_ was summoned. Hence, this.” He gestured around his room, disturbing a particularly sleepy-looking Hresvelgion Whisker that was lounging in his lap. He murmured an apology to the little black-furred thing, and it blinked up at him slowly before putting its head back down to continue napping.

After a few moments of idle chatting and being rubbed against by an incredible number of cats, Edelgard excused herself. She and Hubert resumed their walk towards the upper floor, only to spot Bernadetta poking her head out of her room, looking forlornly at all the cats. Edelgard looked at Hubert, and smiled softly at him. “Hubert… I believe Bernadetta could use an escort to visit with those cats. Would you mind?” He shifted his weight, careful to keep his face neutral. “Well… I suppose I could be amenable to that. Are you certain that you have no more need of me tonight?” She nodded emphatically, and Hubert let out a small sigh. “Very well then. I shall see you in the morning, then, Lady Edelgard.” Hubert allowed himself a small smile, and bowed to her before moving towards Bernadetta. She smiled as she caught sight of him, but Edelgard did not want to intrude. She continued onwards, and soon was asleep in bed, smiling to herself.

\---

Hilda sank down into her bed, sighing contentedly. Earlier that evening, Caspar had called out to her as she was heading up to her room. He was absolutely _covered_ in cats and cat fur but he was so _earnest_ that she had no choice but to come and sit next to him among all those cats. It made her nose itch a little, but those sweet kitties were awfully cute... She smiled, remembering how friendly one of the little black-and-white shorthairs had been - maybe just as cute as its namesake, and easily just as sweet - and turned over onto her back, looking up at the moonlight streaming in through her window as she drifted off to sleep.

She was awakened suddenly to the sound of a door shutting firmly down the hall. Hilda groaned - she’d _always_ been a light sleeper, and dorm life was rough on her because of it, especially when Edelgard was having her nightmares next door. She resisted the urge to get out of bed to fuss at whoever it was, as that seemed like a lot of effort, as well as time she could be spending trying to get back to sleep… Then, a familiar voice boomed through the walls of her room, its owner clearly trying to keep pace with someone far quicker and more discrete. It was, unmistakably, Balthus’ voice.

“C’mon, bossman. I don’t see why we’ve gotta do things this way. You know the Professor’s got some good stuff cooked up. Why not just let her know what’s been going on?” She stayed still and quiet, trying to hear a response, but she was unable to. Cursing softly to herself, she sat up. There was only one person that Baltie would be calling “bossman”, given how he’d acted during the meeting that morning, and that was Claude. But _what_ was Claude doing that had him so up in arms? The Balthus she remembered had always been relaxed, the kind of guy who would have been fine going with the flow of things if Holst wasn’t there to put dumb ideas into his head… To hear him all stirred up like this made her mind start working overtime.

Finally, she decided that she simply couldn’t take it any longer. She got up, and got to work. She slipped some flexible leather gloves on, put her hair up inside a headscarf that she bound tightly at the front to ensure that no stray hairs would escape, and picked a lighter scarf to serve as a mask over her nose and mouth. She then grabbed the lockpicking set Claude had foisted on her early in the term, and sighed as she held it in her hands - things had been so much simpler back then. She’d been able to laze away her days in peace, the world wasn’t a giant conspiracy all the time, and Claude wasn’t a weird, secretive asshole. He was just... well, weird and secretive. She threw on a long black cloak for good measure - it was meant for mourning, but it would serve as decent cover as she stole down the hallway towards Claude’s quarters.

Popping Claude’s lock proved as complicated as she’d expected, but he had taught her too well for it to actually stop her. After a few agonizing minutes of working as silently as she could, she slipped inside his door, carefully locking it behind her and propping one of his windows open outwards. She didn’t know how much time she had, but she would need a clear exit strategy in case something went wrong, and the ledges underneath the windows were wide enough that someone her size could easily slip out onto them and move around undetected. She _really_ didn’t want Claude catching her snooping. She didn’t know what she expected to find here, but from what Balthus had said in the hall, and from all of Claude’s weirdness over the past month, she knew he was playing some kind of angle. All this after she practically bared her soul to him during the Verdant Rain Moon, too...

She started with his desk. It was organized chaos, and she let out a quiet “Oh, fuck me…” as she realized that there was no _way_ he wouldn’t notice if something were out of place. She spent a few minutes fixing an image of how it all looked in her mind, then began to sift through the desk, desktop items first. It was all mundane - banal letters from simpering Alliance nobles trying to win over the future Grand Duke, a thick book on tactics from somewhere called “Plegia”, a treatise on poisons that the Church would _probably_ not be alright with him having, some spare fletching supplies… She sighed. Nothing here was out of the ordinary for Claude.

She moved onto his desk drawers. These would be significantly more challenging to put back in order, as they were crammed tighter. She opened his bottom drawer, and was surprised to find a weird wooden thing and some sticks. The drawer itself had a musky, pungent smell to it - aha! She’d found where he stashed his Almyran incense. The wooden thing must be its… stand? Burner? She couldn’t remember how it all worked exactly - Claude hadn’t burned it while she was around after the first time, when they discovered that the smoke did _not_ agree with her constitution, rendering her usual false protests about being weak and delicate somewhat ironic. She smiled, and slid the drawer shut again. A slight gust of wind outside startled her as it pulled the window even further open than it had been, and she held very still for a few moments until her heart stopped racing.

She was in the middle of rifling through his top drawer when she felt several sensations in rapid succession. First, a strong, rough kick square into her back laid her out. Then, it was followed by strong pressure at her knees, hips and elbows as someone pinned her down. Finally, the cold touch of a dagger found her neck. She laid motionless - was this whoever Claude was working with? Or, could it be one of Those Who Slither in the Dark? That didn’t seem likely, but maybe they’d decided to assassinate a house leader in retaliation for the failure of that Solon guy, and stumbled onto her sneaking around. Either way, she was well and truly at the mercy of whoever this assailant was. Heavy footsteps creaked along the floorboards outside the door - she was now doubly trapped. Great.

She decided to risk speaking - the person that had her pinned down was obviously waiting for something. “Uhhh… Hey there! I didn’t mean any harm. Just looking around for some homework! Silly me, I couldn’t remember where Claude said he left it. So um, if you wouldn’t mind, I’d _really_ appreciate it if you didn’t hold that dagger so close to me.” It was a pathetic lie, though her acting was impeccable. It just wouldn’t hold up whatsoever given her choice to dress up like this… To her surprise, the knife was taken away, and the pressure on her lessened, though whoever it was did still have her lightly pinned. If she pulsed the Crest of Goneril she could buck them off, and probably throw them into the far wall, but… That was drastic, since they seemed reasonable-ish. Better to save that for if she needed a desperation play.

“Hilda? What are you doing in my room?”

Her eyes opened wide - _shit_ , Claude was the one that caught her? She let out a nervous laugh. “Ah, well… You know. Just, um…” She had nothing. None of her lies would convince him, and given that he’d _pulled a fucking dagger on her_ , she didn’t want to push him too far. But where had he even come from? The door was still locked, so unless he climbed up the… Oh. Of course he climbed in through the window to his own room.

She sighed. “Look, get off of me. I don’t like being manhandled, unlike some of our classmates.” She heard him exhale shakily, which she took as a good sign. Humor still being able to reach him meant she was less likely to get stabbed. She felt relief wash over her as the pressure on her disappeared, and she turned over, pulling herself upwards to sit on Claude’s desk, finally facing the man himself. He looked… Hmm. What all was going on in that mind of his? He looked angry, but also a little scared? Claude of all people shouldn’t look scared, she decided. If _he_ was scared, things were bad.

He crossed his arms, the dagger he’d had against her throat still naked in his hand. She sighed again. “Alright… I’m going to be totally straight with you, okay? So just… listen for a bit.” She fidgeted a little, pulling down her makeshift mask. “I’ve been worried about you, Claude. You’ve been acting so _weird_ for the past month. Like, really weird, not just normal Claude weird. You go out at all hours of the night, you find any excuse you can not to talk to the Professor… You’ve been pushing me away too, and we’re supposed to be _best friends_. Or does that mean something different in Almyra?” She smiled, trying to convey that that was a joke.

“I just… I wanted to know what was going on with you, and I knew you’d just deny everything if I asked you. I care about you, and…” Oh no. Damn it, there came the waterworks. “ _Hold it together, Hilda_ ”, she told herself.

Claude sighed, and sheathed his dagger. “I’m sorry to have made you worry, but there’s nothing going on with me that you can help with. I’ve already dragged Balthus into my mess, but he’s there because I’m paying him to be. I… All I’m going to tell you is that I’m doing some dangerous work right now. It’s not my place to tell you anything more about it. So, if you really want to be a good best friend to me, please stay out of it. I… if anything happened to you because of me, I don’t know if I could take it. Please, Hilda. Promise me you’ll drop this.”

How _dare_ he try to pull the “best friend” card on her! She had half a mind to punch his lights out and make Baltie spill everything… But then, Claude wouldn’t have actually told him anything useful if he was being _this_ cautious about it. If he was willing to kill a random person in his own dorm room over it, there was no way he’d be blasé about it. As much as she hated to admit it, she was out of her depth here. With no other options, she dropped her head. “ _Fine_ , Claude. You win. But… Please, _please_ be careful. If you won’t let me help, at least promise me you’ll look after yourself.” He nodded, his face completely serious. “I have no intention of dying before I achieve my dreams, Hilda. Don’t worry about that. Now then… If you wouldn’t mind, it’s late.”

And with that, she was turned out of his bedroom, into the waiting arms of a very confused Balthus. She said nothing to him as she walked back to her dorm room, her childhood friend trailing behind her. How could she say anything? She locked the door to her room, laid back down, and finally let the tears fall until sleep found her once more.

\---

Byleth sat alone in the dining hall on the morning of the 6th of Wyvern Moon, demolishing her breakfast with trademark Eisner gusto. It was certainly odd that none of her Eagles were up and about this early - usually she would have at least seen Petra by now, as the Brigidian princess was a habitual early riser. Perhaps they’d all been doing some impromptu house bonding exercise last night? She smiled wryly. If they came to class tired today, they were going to end up regretting it, with the surprise she had in store. She got up to take her dishes in, and decided she would work a little in the classroom while she waited for the earliest of early birds to arrive. It was still before eight bells, so she was expecting to be alone for a while. 

Instead of this solitude, she was stopped almost immediately after leaving the dining hall by a breathless Leonie Pinelli. She arched an eyebrow at the panting young woman, but gave her an opportunity to recover a little before speaking. “Where’s the fire, Leonie?” She received a small smile as a response as Leonie continued to breathe hard. Finally, she straightened up, and fixed Byleth with an intense look. “I know you’re having Captain Jeralt train the Black Eagles until you recover. I want in!”

Byleth chuckled. Leonie was _so_ predictable when it came to Jeralt. In earlier lifetimes, she had found her behavior grating, even annoying. In recent years, though, she had come to appreciate the earnest sincerity that defined how Leonie operated. She was focused, driven, and determined, and those applied to _everything_ she did, or thought, or said. Her devotion to Jeralt made her feel almost like a little sister to Byleth, though she could never bring herself to admit it to Leonie while sober, or while Jeralt was alive.

Still, though, this was for the Battle of the Eagle and Lion. Byleth had never lost a Battle of the Eagle and Lion before, and had no intention of starting now. “Sorry, Pinelli, but it’s Black Eagles only. As a matter of fact, I’m going to be locking the training ground doors once we’re in there.” Leonie looked crestfallen, but shook it off almost immediately. “Well, then, I want to join your class!” Byleth cocked her head. “You want to join my class because I got my dad to fill in for me for a couple weeks? Seriously?”

Leonie’s face took on a pink tint. “No! I mean… Well, yes, that definitely is part of it, but… Well, okay. You know I respect the both of you. I’ve been thinking it over for a while because of that, but this is an opportunity I can’t miss if I’m gonna be a top-tier mercenary someday. Please let me join your class!” Byleth sighed. “Look… I have no objections to it, but I’ve already poached Lysithea from your class. If I took you as well, Claude would never let me hear the end of it, especially since I heard Marianne was officially transferring to the Blue Lions after the Battle of the… Actually, wait.” An idea formed in Byleth’s mind, and after turning it over a few times, she nodded to herself.

“Alright. Tell you what - impress me with your performance at the Battle of the Eagle and Lion, and I’ll sign the papers right there at Gronder Field. Claude can come gripe at me if he has a problem with it. But, I don’t want to see your individual skills - I know you’ve got those. I want to see you work as a team player, even knowing that you might be leaving them behind. Also…” She paused, trying to think of a delicate way to put the last part. “Well… I want you to think long and hard about what you might be giving up if you leave the Golden Deer. Or, uh… Who.” Leonie’s earlier blush intensified, and she broke eye contact with Byleth almost immediately.

Byleth smiled, and laid a hand on the orange-haired woman’s shoulder. “You don’t have to decide now. You’ve got three full weeks. Just… Think it over. And if you do decide to leave… I don't know, maybe try talking to him?” Leonie nodded, silent for once. Byleth chuckled again, then lowered her voice conspiratorially. “Say… You haven’t told anyone else about Dad, have you? I wanted this to be a surprise for the Eagles.” Leonie shook her head, which made Byleth grin mischievously. She said goodbye to Leonie, and resumed her walk into the Black Eagles’ homeroom with a spring in her step.

Upon settling in at her desk, and after finding that she hadn’t actually left herself any paperwork to do, she pulled out her notebook, deciding that it was time to update it again. She scratched things out, made notes, and sighed to herself as she read back over it again. While she worked, she was dimly aware of the bells tolling out eight o’clock. 

Events 

  * ~~The first mock battle~~ (victory)
  * ~~The assault on Kostas’ group at Zanado~~
  * _~~Lord Lonato’s rebellion~~ *_(saved)
  * ~~The attack on the Holy Mausoleum~~
  * ~~The Miklan incident~~ (sent to Empire)
  * _F ~~layn’s kidnapping~~ *_ (prevented)
  * The Battle of the Eagle and Lion
  * _The Remire calamity*_ (prevented?)
  * Jeralt’s death* (prevented?)
  * ~~Apotheosis in the Sealed Forest~~ (happened early)
  * The battle in the Holy Tomb (prevented? check with El)
  * The Battle of Garreg Mach (?)
  * Five year sleep (?)



Acceptable Casualties 

  * ~~Kostas~~ (talked)
  * Miklan (sent to Empire)
  * Metodey
  * Solon (injured, probably alive)
  * Kronya (injured, maybe alive?)
  * Thales
  * Any Agarthan who fights back
  * Rhea* (maybe on side?)
  * The Black Knight (Anacharsis) (captured)
  * ~~Cornelia~~ ( ~~Aspasia~~ )



She grimaced. The only event she knew would happen for sure now was the Battle of the Eagle and Lion. With Solon injured and somewhat out of the picture, there was no way to tell whether Remire would happen, and since Kronya had failed to infiltrate the monastery, there was a chance that Jeralt’s death wouldn’t happen like it usually did. Meanwhile, her work with Edelgard led her to feel _fairly_ confident that she wouldn’t attack the Holy Tomb this time, and her work with Dimitri gave her hope, however faint, that the Battle of Garreg Mach could be avoided altogether. And if _that_ were the case, it was possible she could skip missing the entirety of her five year slumber from 1181 to 1185. The possibilities that spun out from that were too many to even think of…

She sighed wearily, and put her notebook away, holding her head in her hands. She was startled into alertness a few moments later by approaching footsteps. Looking upwards, her eyes settled onto Flayn, who looked exhausted. Despite her condition, she still managed a warm smile towards Byleth, and a cheery, if subdued, “Good morning, Professor!” Byleth smiled at her in return. “Good morning yourself, Flayn. Are you excited for your first day in the Officer’s Academy?” Flayn blinked a few times, then nodded. “I very much am, yes, although I know right now I must seem as though I am not. I apologize, I am simply… Well…” She trailed off, not meeting Byleth’s eyes.

“I really appreciate you taking care of my brother, Flayn… But you do need to take care of yourself, too. You of all people should know that you can’t push yourself past your limits to help other people.” A hint of fear echoed in her voice as she remembered Flayn’s past - she had told Byleth once that the true reason for her thousand year slumber was not in fact an injury suffered in battle, but because she pushed herself too far in attempting to heal the wounded at the Battle of Gronder in the early years of the War of Heroes. That same battle had claimed the life of her mother, Eithne, who Flayn had desperately tried to revive to no avail. _This_ Flayn didn’t know that she had revealed that to Byleth, but she hoped that she would be receptive to the message just the same.

Evidently her hope was realized, as Flayn looked downwards. “I… I understand, Professor. I’ll try to take better care of myself.” Byleth stood and risked a hug while no other students were present. Flayn’s eyes lit up at the contact between them, and she sighed contentedly. Releasing the small manakete from her grasp, Byleth let one of her own loose from her lips. “I wish that we could have more time like this… Just time to spend as family, without pressing needs or responsibilities… Perhaps once this is all over, hmm?” Flayn smiled. “I would enjoy that more than words could describe, Professor.”

Their stolen time would not last, however, as the rest of the Black Eagles began to trickle in. Once class officially started, and her whole house was assembled, she stood in front of her desk and addressed them. Several were staring openly at her, and at Flayn, and she realized with a start that she had been sequestered away from everyone for most of the week since they had seen her last. She sighed - they were owed an explanation of some sort.

“Well… Good morning, everyone. I know you are all a bit curious about what happened to me, but we do have some business to talk about first. I’m pleased to announce that Flayn here is going to be joining the Black Eagle house officially, starting today. I want you all to treat her with respect, and help her feel like she fits in here, understood?” There was a small chorus of “Yes, Professor” and nods from her students, and she beamed with pride. Her kids were all such good kids… Shaking herself from her thoughts, she took a deep breath.

“Now then… I know you all have questions. Some of you may want to know why I wasn’t in battle with you during that fight in the Horsebow Moon… That is because there were enemies elsewhere in the monastery. I was busy fighting them, and… Well, during the process, I was, er… I received divine power from the Goddess.” She cringed as they exploded into noise all at once. Right… Too much.

She turned back time. Edelgard cocked an eyebrow at her. “During my battle, something happened to me. Archbishop Rhea believes that it was a blessing from the Goddess. I don’t know what to believe, exactly, but I cannot deny that I am much more powerful now than I was.” Her students reacted in shock, but this time, it felt as though they were handling it better. Couching it in language like that had helped, after all. She smiled faintly at Edelgard, before returning her attention to the class. “Unfortunately, I was also fairly severely injured during the battle, which is why I’m not wearing my armor, or carrying my s-- the Sword of the Creator. I’m supposed to avoid anything strenuous, like training, for the next month or so… Which will have an impact on you all, unfortunately.”

All eyes were on her now. “Because of my injury, I am going to be sitting out for the Battle of the Eagle and Lion. I don’t like it any more than you do, but it’s for the best. Professors Hanneman and Manuela are also going to be sitting out, so this battle will be a true test of the skills and talents you have cultivated during your time at the Officer’s Academy. While I can handle magical training without any issue” - her eyes flicked to Flayn, who nodded begrudgingly - “physical training with me is out of the question.”

Her non-mages looked heartbroken at this news, but before they could protest, Byleth raised a hand. “Fortunately, there _is_ one other person in Fodlan who fights like I fight. For the next three weeks of practical exercises during class time, you’ll be learning from him. A loud knock rang out on the homeroom doors, and Byleth smiled as wide as she could. “Ah… There he is now.” The doors swung open, and there, standing framed in them in as dramatic a fashion as he could, was her father. Most of her students gasped, and several jaws hung wide open in shock. “Everyone, say hello to Jeralt, the Blade-Breaker. He’ll be your combat instructor for the Battle of the Eagle and Lion.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to go ahead and get out in front of this one. Byleth's new mystery powers are *not* in fact a mystery to me. I know how far they extend, and have no intention of using them as a deus ex machina, or even really relying on them as a crutch. You'll have to trust me for now, but they do have limits. Byleth will find those as time goes on.
> 
> To clarify what Rhea does and does not know right now, since I realize that Byleth telling two different things to different people/groups of people can be confusing:   
> Rhea DOES know   
> \- that Byleth is a time travelling immortal on a quest to save as many people as she can  
> \- that Byleth has knowledge of other timelines that Rhea is not privy to   
> \- that Byleth and Sothis have merged souls  
> \- that Edelgard knows some things she probably shouldn't  
> \- that Byleth is opposed to a shadowy group that wants to attack the Church, and her family
> 
> Rhea DOES NOT know  
> \- that Byleth runs the Secret Time Travel Club (or that it exists at all)  
> \- that Byleth has turned on her in other lifetimes  
> \- anything about the details of the war that takes place in Three Houses' canon routes  
> \- anything about Edelgard's association with TWSITD   
> \- that Byleth's shadowy group are the remnants of the Agarthans
> 
> See the notes from Chapter 25, "Family Business" for etymological information about the name Nessa.
> 
> Linhardt is adopting the black cat. I don't make the rules. This is both based on my own childhood cat, and on the fact that Linhardt's voice actor, Chris Patton, owns a black cat that showed up in some of the videos he did with Anime Impulse for the one year anniversary of Three Houses. 
> 
> Also, here's an image that shows the various monastery animals next to their breed name. It might interest certain parties to know that there's only one breed that's black and white *and* called a shorthair. Credit to meridiachii, I just upscaled it to be more readable: https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/334706226849906691/803451047737294848/three_houses_cats_and_dogs.jpg
> 
> Finally, I just wanted to say how incredible it is to me that so many people have engaged with this fic. I mean, over one hundred kudos? Well over one hundred comments? *5000+* hits? This is mindblowing to me. As my master document just breached 400 pages with the completion of this chapter, I find myself in a reflective mood. Thanks for reading and engaging with this like you all have. I really appreciate it - getting comments especially is like a kick in the ass to get me to keep writing even when I don't have a lot of internal motivation otherwise.


	37. Warnings and Welcomes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeralt helps to train the Black Eagles, Byleth learns some worrying information, Edelgard has a lovely chat, Rhea goes to therapy, and Byleth has something to ask of her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CN for very mild self harm in the second section (not for mental health reasons, just intentional self-injury), starting at "Thankfully, she found him at one of the tables" and ending a four sentences into that paragraph.

Jeralt smiled. It had been a busy week of knocking Byleth’s brats on their asses, but _goddess_ , there was just something about fighting young people that fighting regular soldiers didn’t give him. They all had dreams, ambitions, and a hell of a lot of pride, and none of them wanted to shy away from growing to achieve their dreams, even if it meant they had to cross blades with him. Their vitality and zest for life made him feel like he was back in his own youth, somehow… He hefted his training sword, taking a loose ready stance that was familiar to all Byleth’s students. He chuckled to himself - she always managed to make this stance look so effortless, even though it took _more_ effort to be constantly ready to spring into action while looking like you were standing passively. 

Individually, of course, they could both take any of these kids. Probably blindfolded, except for the skittish archer girl or the kid from Brigid. But of course, Byleth wanted them to work on teamwork ahead of the big battle, and Jeralt couldn’t exactly blame her. It would give them an edge on the other houses, since neither Hanneman nor Manuela had the kind of battle experience needed to teach group tactics like this. Plus, getting nobles to play nice and work together when they were young would mean more stability for their lands when they got older. He was actually looking forward to a bit of a workout, even if it was just kids. This was their last match of the day, more likely than not, so he might even cut loose a little.

A twitch from Edelgard’s forward leg caught his attention, and the fight was on. She dashed in, whirling her axe faster than he’d seen many axe fighters do before, aiming for his left shin. Meanwhile, the red-headed boy dove in with a lance, trying to stall him and tangle up his guard on the right side. The spitfire brunette dashed around behind him, and the subtle crackle in the air told him she was preparing a Thunder spell. Meanwhile, Flayn and the other green-haired mage were standing off to the side, clearly in a ready position, but not casting or running at him. He’d worry about them in a second - he dodged left, moving much faster than his bulky frame would suggest he was able, and pressed his attack towards Edelgard. The lancer had already overextended the head of his lance past Jeralt from his dodge, so all he could realistically do was whack the haft against his side ineffectually, or pull back to try again. His sword sliced through the air towards Edelgard’s right shoulder, but a split second before it made contact, she vanished in a column of light, only to reappear behind him not a moment later.

She let out a little grunt of triumph, and swung her axe right at his back. He wasn’t going to have the time to dodge it - how’d she managed that trick, anyway? - so he jumped backwards, catching her blow early to mitigate the force of an axe on the downswing. By then, the lancer had recovered, and was lashing out with devastating force only inches away from Jeralt’s guard. Meanwhile, the brunette mage ran straight up to him. She had a Thunder spell ready to go in her off hand, and a sword in her main hand. She locked blades with him - while she had almost no physical strength to compare with his own, the momentary distraction was all she needed to blast him at point blank range with her spell. He saw another attack coming in from the lancer, and he twisted his left arm up and under his right to catch it on his gauntlet, wincing as the contact rattled his shoulders. 

Off to the side, Flayn and the other mage started charging up Wind magic, and Edelgard was probably winding up for another shot with her axe behind him, if he had to guess. If he didn’t do something drastic, which had a decent chance of hurting the kids, he was actually in a bit of a tight spot. He smiled and locked eyes with Byleth, who nodded and flung her hand into the air. A sigil he’d never seen before starting this training with her blinked into existence in mid-air, and Edelgard, the brunette, and the redhead were thrown backwards as a golden barrier appeared around him. He relaxed his stance, letting out a breath he was unaware he’d been holding in. A moment later, the barrier disappeared.

The peppy blue-haired kid started cheering, and the dour mage boy, Hubert, went to check on Edelgard. Jeralt turned his attention towards Flayn and her green-haired battle buddy, running through possibilities in his head. Then it hit him, and he smiled even wider. “Rescue and Warp, right? That was some tight timing, you two. Well done.” The pair of them beamed at his praise, and Flayn nodded earnestly. He turned back to Byleth just as the bell tolled four. Clicking his tongue and shaking his head, he barked out “Alright you all! Good work today. You’ve improved steadily since we started. Keep up the good work, and you’ll be unstoppable. I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow morning for more group work.”

Byleth had trained her kids well, that was for damn sure. He walked up to her, and pulled her into a side-hug. She leaned into it, humming, and Jeralt was once again struck by how nice it was to have her emote like this. She looked up at him and smiled, a smile that made her look _so much_ like Sitri that it hurt. With her new hair, especially… He pushed the pain down, and returned her smile. “You did good, By. Your kids have all shaped up nicely.” She nodded, pressing into his side again. “I had a good teacher, a long time ago…” The two of them stood there for a while, watching as the students chatted or left the training grounds. Jeralt sighed - this life wasn’t what he’d envisioned, but… maybe it was good that they came back to Garreg Mach. 

\---

Byleth sighed contentedly. She, Jeralt, Edelgard, Hubert, and Dorothea were all cleaning up the training grounds from a full day of work. True to his nickname, Jeralt had left broken weapons strewn all over the place, and they’d taken to simply leaving it all where it fell until the end of the day. It was mindless work, which was nice. It wasn’t often that Byleth had that kind of thing. Soon, a few students began to trickle into the training grounds, now that they were unlocked and open to the public. Felix cast her a dirty look, as if her class using the training grounds exclusively on Mondays and Tuesdays during this moon were a personal attack on him. She smiled, in spite of it. Felix was Felix, and that much would never change.

A shock of pink hair in the corner of her vision surprised her, and she turned to make sure she hadn’t been seeing things. Hilda smiled nervously as she caught Byleth’s eye, and motioned for her to come closer to where she was, near the entrance to the training grounds. She exchanged a look with Jeralt, and the two of them walked over towards the pink-haired girl. Jeralt left the training grounds to run interference at the door, and Byleth leaned against a pillar while she waited for Hilda to speak.

Finally, she found her voice. “So… Professor, Claude’s acting… weird.” Byleth raised an eyebrow at her - Claude acting weird was normal, but something told her that this was more in reference to how he’d been acting for the past few weeks. She nodded, staying silent until Hilda provided more detail. Hilda scuffed the ground with her boot. “I broke into his room the other night to see if I could find out what he was up to, and when he caught me, he threatened me and threw me out. Something is seriously up with him, and I…” She trailed off, shaking her head. Byleth blinked a few times, processing that Hilda not only knew how to break and enter, but that she had done so _to Claude_. That instantly made her level of concern rise. If not even Hilda knew what Claude was up to, something was wrong.

“Are you okay?”

Hilda looked up at her, and sighed. “No… I mean, physically yeah, I’m fine. He didn’t hurt me, even though he could have. But… It’s hard, you know? We got pretty close earlier in the year, and now it’s like he’s a stranger.” Her eyes widened, and a look of horror crept over her face. “Oh… Oh no. Professor, you don’t think..?” Byleth’s chest tightened as fear struck her like a lance. “I… no. I think that’s… unlikely.” 

She cursed herself silently for not being able to say that with conviction. If Claude had been replaced by Those Who Slither in the Dark, how would they be able to tell? For all her experience fighting Agarthans, she was still woefully unprepared to ferret out any new infiltrators. And if Claude _had_ been replaced, that meant that the entire Alliance was now potentially under the thumb of the Agarthans, and that her plans were almost certainly compromised. Although, he had been avoiding their meetings since he started acting stranger than usual. Surely an infiltrator would have tried to attend at any cost…

She frowned. “Look… Leave figuring this out to me, alright? You just… need to give him space. And be there for the other Deer, okay? If he’s acting this way around you, that probably means that he’s been slacking on his house leader duties as well, right?” Hilda nodded, still terrified. She clapped a hand to her mouth. “Oh no. Lorenz!” Byleth cocked her head to the side, confused. “What about Lorenz?” Hilda swore under her breath. “He’s an _idiot_ , that’s what! He’s been obsessed with figuring out what secrets Claude’s hiding. It’s not exactly hard to suspect him of being… of, uh, not… His heritage.” She jerked her head forward, trying to communicate obliquely. Byleth nodded, memories flooding back in. “Right, right… Lorenz is angry that Gloucester lost its shot at leading the Alliance, and suspicious of where Claude came from. That tracks, and with how strange Claude’s been acting, he’ll have plenty to go off of… Damn. Alright. I’ll talk to him myself.”

Hilda nodded, and let out a shaky breath. “Boy… This whole thing is a mess, huh?” Byleth smiled sadly, and pulled Hilda into a hug. “We’ll figure it out. I may not have been there for the Deer much this time around, but please know that I care about all of you.” Hilda returned the smile weakly, and nodded. “Thanks, Professor. I’m gonna go see how Marianne is doing, I think, or maybe Ignatz… They’re both so sensitive, they’ve probably noticed something is off, too.” She excused herself, and left the training grounds. Byleth swore and aimed a kick at a nearby weapon rack, which earned her a raised eyebrow from Jeralt as he re-entered. “Kid?”

She shook her head. “It’s… We’ll talk about it another time. For now… Ugh. I have to go talk to Lorenz.” She scrunched up her face - Lorenz outside of her moderating influence was _insufferable_ during his Academy days, and admitting to him that he had actual grounds for his suspicions was going to make him worse than he’d ever been… Though perhaps there was another way to get him to stop without adding fuel to his fire. A plan formed in her mind, and she took her leave. It was close to half past four… Lorenz was a tea aficionado, so it was likely that he would be over in the gardens at this time of day, probably bothering female students about courting and marriage. If not there, then he might already be in the dining hall, but that was far too public for this plan to work…

Thankfully, she found him at one of the tables in the gardens, cleaning up his tea set with a dejected look on his face. She felt a pang of empathy for him, but shook it aside - she had work to do. Gritting her teeth, she pulled out her dagger, and made a thin, shallow cut on her upper arm. Sheathing the dagger, she called out to him, keeping her voice deadpan and level in case Claude were lurking somewhere nearby. He snapped his head upwards, and put on a winning smile as he saw her. “Ah! Professor Byleth! What a delightful surprise. To what do I owe the pleasure of your company on this fine afternoon, hmm?”

Byleth frowned, fixing him with a disapproving look. “I’ve gotten several complaints, recently, about you. Not only have _multiple_ female students expressed discomfort and fear about your behavior towards them, but I’m told that you’ve also been publicly undermining your house leader, and calling his origins into question. Sound familiar?” Lorenz balked. “F-- bu-- _discomfort?!_ But Professor, I have been nothing but a gentleman to the ladies of the Academy! I do ask them to dinner, I admit, but that is nothing unusual for one of my noble bearing. I am the scion of House Gloucester, after all. It is bred in me to treat all people with respect. Rest assured, you will not find anyone more upstanding than yours truly!”

His expression darkened. “As for Claude… I am simply doing my duty. There are far too many things that do not add up about him, and it would be irresponsible of me to allow him to assume the mantle of leadership within the Alliance without challenge, or at least close scrutiny.” Byleth sighed, and reached for one of the remaining tea cups on the table, extending her arm conspicuously into Lorenz’ line of vision. He paled as he caught sight of the cut. “Oh, Professor! You are injured! Please, allow me. I shall apply a salve, as well…” He dug out an outrageously purple handkerchief, and a small jar.

Byleth took his handkerchief from the table while Lorenz fumbled with the jar. Working quickly, she localized a Thunder spell onto her fingertip, and burned “ _Mortal danger_ ” onto the fabric. She then cleared her throat, and made a show of handing the handkerchief back to him, the message plainly visible on it. “You need to stop treating Claude like this, _do you understand_? By all means, disagree with him, and challenge him if you _must_ , but don’t do anything like what you’ve been doing. Again, _do you understand_?” She shook the handkerchief for good measure, and a spark of clarity shone in Lorenz’ eyes. “I… I see. Yes. Well, if it means so much to you, I, Lorenz Hellman Gloucester, will give you my word as a nobleman that I will curtail my efforts, for the time being.” His brow furrowed, and he took the handkerchief, stuffing it into his pocket with a worried look and pulling out a fresh one, equally purple.

Byleth raised a hand to her cut, wiping the blood clean. Her blessed scarf had already begun healing it, but she allowed Lorenz to tend to it regardless. He tied his fresh handkerchief around her bicep, not too tightly, but not too snugly, and stepped back, looking pleased with himself. Byleth sighed. “There _is_ still the matter of the female students. I need you to seriously reevaluate your actions - even if you don’t see anything wrong with what you’re doing, these women do, and eventually you’re going to piss off the wrong woman with the wrong family, and it’s going to have repercussions for your house. Do you want that?” It rankled her to frame his womanizing like this, but experience had taught her that it was the best way to deal with younger Lorenz.

He nodded, suddenly very grave. “I… I see. While I do not understand how my actions have been construed in this manner… If it means this much to you, I shall refrain. Please understand, Professor - I am not some scoundrel out for conquest. I am attempting to fulfill my duty as the legitimate heir of House Gloucester. It is my responsibility to--” She raised a hand. “Lorenz. You already have people who love you for who you actually are, not who you pretend to be for the benefit of your father. If you let them in and find happiness, who’s to say that that doesn’t _also_ benefit your house in the long run?” She sighed. “I’m not asking you to change your worldview overnight. Just… Think about it, alright?” She patted his arm, ignoring the naked shock on his face, and turned on her heel. Leonie owed her for that.

\---

As Edelgard watched Byleth interact with Hilda from across the training grounds, she found herself in the far corner with Dorothea. She smiled at the brunette songstress - her performance today against Jeralt had been inspired, and here she was _still_ hard at work when none of the other Eagles had stayed to help besides Hubert and herself. Dorothea caught her smiling, and returned the look, adding a little wink of her own. Yet… Something under the surface bothered her. Edelgard could almost have sworn there was a hint of reluctance, or fear… How odd.

To mitigate this awkward silence and drown out her rebellious thoughts, Edelgard struck up a conversation. “You know, Dorothea, Garreg Mach really is an incredible place.” The other woman simply raised an eyebrow, and Edelgard pushed ahead. “Where else in all of Fodlan would you find two people like ourselves, from wildly different backgrounds, down on our hands and knees picking up scraps from broken weapons? I’m truly glad that we met. I want you to know that I consider you a friend.” She blushed slightly - being this open was still somewhat tricky for her. Dorothea laughed, light and soft. “Oh Edie, you say the nicest things sometimes.” A shadow crossed her face. “And, um… If we’re friends, could I maybe talk to you about something? Friend to friend… Preferably where we can’t be overheard?”

Edelgard’s pulse quickened. Dorothea wasn’t often one to mince words, so for her to beat around the bush like this was a little disconcerting. Still… If this went poorly, Byleth could always reverse it. She nodded, and motioned Hubert closer. His yellow-green eyes flickered between the two of them for a moment, then rested on her, awaiting orders. “Please prepare some Muffling in inconspicuous spots around that bench, if you would.” He raised an eyebrow, but did not object openly. He returned a minute later, bowing. “It is done, Lady Edelgard. Shall I ensure that none approach you while you talk?” Edelgard sighed. “Discreetly, yes. I highly doubt anyone would lack the tact to leave two people obviously speaking privately alone, but if, say… Caspar were to show up, you could stand in his way.”

He nodded, and settled in against one of the pillars ringing the training grounds. Edelgard and Dorothea sat down on the bench Hubert had placed Muffling around, though the latter looked nervous. “Oh, my apologies”, Edelgard began. “Hubert has just used By-- Professor Byleth’s Muffling spell. No one can overhear us here, so please, speak your mind.” Dorothea nodded, and took in a long, shaky breath.

“Well… It’s just that, um… I saw you sneaking off the other night. Back when Lin did that thing with the cats?” Edelgard’s eyes widened, but she said nothing. Hubert would have told her if something had triggered his illusions, and there was no way that they would have been overheard, but even so… Dorothea continued. “I followed you out to an abandoned chapel, and then Hubie did something that made the two of you disappear. I couldn’t hear anything either, so I guess that was _this_ spell? Something about the whole thing really seemed off, but he laid down a bunch of those nasty spells of his, so I couldn’t get close. I went back to the monastery, but I kept an eye out for you two. You probably didn’t spot me - I’m good at blending in, you know…” 

Edelgard nodded - she certainly _hadn’t_ noticed Dorothea hanging around anywhere, but the thought that they had been tailed so easily chilled her to the core. Dorothea hadn’t seen anything incriminating, but this situation could easily have spiraled out of control. What would happen next time, if she gave an answer that Dorothea didn’t accept? At the same time… She couldn’t tell her the truth, could she?

Turning the problem over in her mind, she thought of a number of solutions, but none of them seemed adequate. Having friends sure did interfere with spycraft… Then, inspiration struck.

“Well… I suppose I should come clean a little bit. Please keep what I say in confidence, even among our fellow Black Eagles. The Professor is aware of it as well, but otherwise, it should stay between us.” Dorothea nodded, her eyes shining with curiosity. “I am secretly working for the good of all of Fodlan against the likes of those who attacked the monastery last month. My work has me contact some rather… Unpleasant people, shall we say. But, it is vital - the group that I am working with needs the information that Hubert and I are in a position to gather. What you saw was one such meeting.”

Dorothea silently digested this information, then stared at her, a strange look in her eyes. “So… What _is_ the ‘good of Fodlan’? Do normal people get a say in it, or just fancy nobles?” Edelgard sighed. “Dorothea, I would never allow something like that to--” Dorothea laughed, cutting her off. “Oh I _know_ , Edie. I was just teasing. Besides, you don’t have that kind of thing in you anywhere, I don’t think. But I do still want to know what this ‘good’ you’re working for is.” Edelgard hummed, trying to find the right words to speak obliquely enough to keep things secret, but directly enough to to satisfy Dorothea’s curiosity.

“Well… I suppose the simplest way to put it would be equality. I want to erase the boundaries between noble and commoner, and bring about a fundamental change in how the world works. Instead of only valuing people for whatever circumstances they were born into, people will instead be recognized for their own worth. The group I’m working with is going to help me accomplish this goal.” Dorothea said nothing for a moment, clearly thinking deeply.

“I see… Well, that sounds lovely, but there is one problem. Isn’t that, you know… Against the Goddess?” Edelgard cocked an eyebrow. “Dorothea… Since when has that mattered to you?” The brunette’s face suddenly became inscrutable, but her mouth tightened into a thin line. Edelgard sighed. “Very well. To answer your question: I do not believe so, and neither does Byleth. My opinion might not hold much weight for such a question, but hers undoubtedly does. It is not even all that outside of the teachings of the church. In fact, we have tacit approval from several high-ranking church officials on the matter.”

Dorothea sat still and silent for a few minutes. She had another thoughtful look on her face, and Edelgard was determined to give her the time she needed. Eventually, though, she started to grow worried. Just before she tried to rouse Dorothea, the brunette songstress locked eyes with her again. “Well, I guess that’s fine by me, then. But, if you don’t mind, I think I’d like to join your little group. It’s not that I don’t trust you - we’re friends, like you said, and friends trust each other. But it sounds like all you’ve got in this group of yours is a bunch of stuffed-shirt nobles. You need someone like me in there to balance things out, don’t you agree?” She flashed a dazzling smile, and Edelgard felt a little weak in the knees in the face of Dorothea’s charm. Wouldn’t it be useful if _she_ could turn that level of charm on at will?

Edelgard wrung her hands in her lap. “Well… Ultimately that decision isn’t mine. But… How about this? I will talk to Byleth about it soon - she will decide, and let you know. If she says yes, then you’ll be more than welcome to join us, and dress down any noble you like. In fact, I encourage it, if someone should get a bit out of sorts.” She smiled, hoping this would be enough. Thankfully, Dorothea returned the smile as she pulled Edelgard into a quick hug. “Oh, thanks, Edie! You’re wonderful! I hope the Professor says yes. I can’t imagine her refusing _you_ , though.” With a wink, she stood and walked out of the training grounds, leaving Edelgard red-faced, but still smiling. Perhaps having friends and spycraft could go together after all… 

\---

Rhea stood outside the infirmary door, hesitating. She was the archbishop of the Church of Seiros, and had stood against terrors for thousands of years. She was an unflinching warrior of incredible prowess… So why was this one, simple act so difficult? She placed a hand on the latch, and rested her head against the wood of the door itself. Byleth had _somehow_ gotten her to agree to this foolishness over tea, just like she had _somehow_ gotten her to take off her armor earlier in the moon. Something about her was so compelling, beyond their shared heritage. Perhaps it was whatever spark was left of Mother within her, but Byleth was able to get Rhea to do incredible things… Even _this_. She sighed, lifted her head up, and knocked on the door.

“Just a moment~!” Manuela’s voice drifted outwards towards her, lilting. Rhea quite liked the woman, especially after Seteth had surprised her by asking Manuela to relate a story from her youth. It was embarrassing to think about, but a young Manuela had, evidently, overheard Rhea singing while walking the halls of the monastery, and mistaken her voice for Mother’s. While it was a flattering comparison, she had no desire to ruin it for her - Manuela had been an excellent addition to their staff, and Seteth, try as he might to hide it, was obviously fond of her as well. A smile crept onto her face - her elder brother deserved even temporary happiness, though he was too stubborn to reach for it himself. While she couldn’t use her influence, perhaps she could seek aid from Flayn, or from one of the twins. It struck her, as she waited, that she had not actually seen Bereth since the day of the attack on the cathedral. She pushed this thought from her mind - she would worry about him after this business was sorted.

The door opened, and Manuela beamed up at her from within the infirmary. “Why, Lady Rhea! I had almost thought that Byleth was playing a joke on me, and yet here you are! Please, do come in.” Rhea returned Manuela’s smile with one of her formal archbishop smiles and a small nod, and swept into the room. It smelled faintly of antiseptic and blood, though likely only a Nabatean would have been able to pick up the scent. Manuela motioned to a set of chairs at a small table, and the two of them sat down. She looked at Manuela expectantly, waiting for her to establish what this procedure would look like.

“Well, I suppose we should go over the basics of what to expect. First of all, please know that anything you say in this room, stays in this room. I will never tell another soul, you have my word.” She raised her right hand in the air, positioned as if she were making an oath. Rhea smiled, and Manuela returned it before getting up. “In fact, one moment…” She formed a sigil that Rhea recognized - the Muffling spell that Bereth had come up with. It had spread in usage, evidently. Manuela finished casting, and returned to her seat. “That spell will ensure that no one outside of this room can eavesdrop on us, so please, feel free to be as open as you would like to be. This time is _your_ time to speak of whatever you want without fear of judgment, much less any of your normal political concerns.”

Rhea raised an eyebrow. Manuela promised there would be no judgment? How odd. And yet, somehow, she believed her… Curious. Realizing that she had stayed silent for a while longer than was socially prudent, she nodded. “I appreciate this, Professor Manuela. I admit that it has been some time since I have been able to speak openly with someone so… disassociated with the issues of my daily life.” A little bait to trap the overeager never hurt - if Manuela took it, she would simply make small talk for several interminable minutes, and never seek this again. 

To her surprise, Manuela simply nodded. “I imagine that must be a pretty large concern for someone in your position. Oh, and, please - call me Manuela. In this room, I’ve spoken to princes, dukes, counts, and commoners alike - rank doesn’t matter a fig here.” Rhea turned that over in her mind for a moment, then decided to test her. “I see. I admit, that is yet another attractive prospect. Would you be willing to forgo my title, as well, and speak to me as just Rhea?” Manuela hesitated ever so slightly before answering. “If that would make you more comfortable, then yes, I would be.” 

Rhea sighed deeply, and let her shoulders droop ever so slightly. “Thank you. It is a rare treat for me to simply be Rhea.” Manuela smiled brightly. “Of course! My own title is so much more minor than yours, but I have at least an inkling of what you mean. It’s a very relieving feeling for you, I imagine.” She nodded.

The two of them sat in awkward silence, partially because Rhea wanted to see if Manuela would interrupt it. When she did not, that signaled to Rhea that the woman truly was serious about this. She chewed on her bottom lip for a while, considering how to proceed. “Well… perhaps we could use this time to talk through some of my more personal concerns. Not that I would not trust you to speak to the political concerns that weigh on my mind, but… Well, I already have an able advisor for that. Other matters, though…” She shrugged, and Manuela nodded, otherwise staying silent.

Rhea fidgeted in place. Anything related to Byleth or Mother was out of the question, but… Perhaps with a little obfuscation, something else that had bothered her could be resolved. “Well… I have precious few in my life whom I trust. I do not believe that I could call them ‘friends’, exactly, because of my position, but in another world, I would… I would like to think that we would be that.” She cleared her throat. “Er, in any event… A while ago, I hurt one of the people close to me. What I did to them is grievous, and cannot be mended. Despite that, they continue to hew close to me, but… It is not something that I feel that I deserve.”

Manuela hummed, tenting her fingers. “Well, then that begs the question - what _do_ you feel like you deserve?” Silence passed between them as Rhea wrangled her thoughts, attempting to get everything aligned so that she did not give anything away about Catherine’s situation. Eventually, she spoke again. “I would deserve scorn, and hate, and disdain. At the very least, I deserve distrust and fear. I know that what I did to them was harmful. And, were I to be honest, I did it as much out of spite as anything.” Manuela nodded. “Spite is an interesting word, don’t you think? Some people mean some small, petty sniping or annoyance when they say spite. Others mean grander things, like vengeance. What do you mean when you say that it was out of spite?”

Rhea paused again. She could not fully hide the details of this, especially given that she had only been openly defied once this year. But, perhaps another small test with this knowledge would help her gauge the usefulness of this practice as a whole. She took a deep breath, readying herself. “Well… This trusted person defied me, when I least expected it. It felt like I had been slapped in the face, but it signaled so much more. It meant that my trusted person was pulling away from me, and… I panicked. Perhaps, knowing what I know now, I can say that it was a mistake… After all, the ill effects of what I have done became known. But… I just did not want to lose anyone else.”

Manuela nodded. “Fear can be a powerful motivator. So can anger. It sounds to me as though you had both in that moment, and you lashed out to try to keep things like they always had been. You wanted your family, for lack of a better word, to remain in equilibrium, even if you didn’t consciously think that.” She paused, thinking to herself. “You don’t have to answer this, of course, but have you considered apologizing to this person? They’re obviously important to you, and forgiveness can be a healing balm to a troubled heart.”

Rhea shook her head. “No. To ask her to forgive me… It is too much to even consider. I would have to explain why and how I hurt her, and… and…” She could not voice the final questions in her heart: _“What if she doesn’t accept? Or… What if she does?”_ She sighed wearily. “It is one of many things that I have done in my life that is unforgivable. It numbers among the smaller and less heinous, perhaps, but it is unforgivable nonetheless.” 

Manuela shook her head. “I don’t make it a point to disagree with people during these sessions, but I’ll have to make an exception for that. I don’t think that there’s anything anyone can truly do that’s completely unforgivable. Sure, some things may be harder than others to forgive, but I truly believe that no one is beyond forgiveness.” She looked wistfully into the middle distance for a moment, before shaking her head and continuing on. 

“I say this mostly because forgiveness isn’t something that you control - it comes from other people. Your involvement is important too, of course - you have to apologize, atone, and ask for forgiveness properly before you can start to forgive _yourself_ for what you did - but ultimately the burden is lifted off of your shoulders. If someone doesn’t give you their forgiveness, and you sincerely did all you could, well… Then that’s all you can do. But something tells me that it isn’t fear of your trusted person not forgiving you that’s holding you back. Instead, I think it might be fear that she _would_.”

Rhea was about to voice her vehement denial when a small chime tinkled from somewhere on the shelves behind her. Manuela jumped ever so slightly, and frowned. “Oh, dear. I’m afraid I completely lost track of time! You’ll have to, ah… forgive me, for that.” She chuckled to herself, and stood. “I would love to see you again, and continue speaking about this, or whatever else comes to mind. I’m sure the archbishop’s crown weighs heavy, and I’d be honored if you wanted to unburden yourself here every now and again.” 

Rhea was confused by how abruptly the session had ended, but found herself nodding. “I… Well. I admit, that would be nice. I suppose I shall return, then, if you are amenable to it. Thank you, Manuela.” She stood, and Manuela stood with her, crossing over to the door and opening it for her. “It was wonderful to speak to you today, Lady Rhea.” Manuela winked, and Rhea took it to be a signal that they were returning to the way of the world once more. “Likewise, Professor Manuela.” She strode down the hall towards her office off the audience chamber. For some reason, she could not stop thinking about Manuela’s strange view of forgiveness… But, no matter. That was something that Just Rhea could worry about. Until then, Archbishop Rhea was in charge, and there was no rest for someone with as many sins as her.

\---

After a busy week, Byleth decided it was time to begin work on another plan that she had cooked up. Rising early on the morning of the 19th of Wyvern Moon, she made her way towards Rhea’s office. Rhea was a habitual early riser, and a chronic over-worker. That made it fairly easy to predict that she would be there. As Byleth entered into the empty audience chamber, she saw Rhea’s doors closed. She knocked on the door, and waited. A man’s voice, low and quiet, said something she couldn’t hear, and Rhea’s own voice responded equally quietly. Finally, she heard “Enter”, and pulled the door open. Inside, Rhea was seated on one of the small couches in her office. Across from her on the other was Bereth. Byleth’s eyes widened, and she couldn’t help from half-shouting his name at the sight of him.

He looked… bad. Worse than Byleth had ever looked following Jeralt’s death, even. He was truly taking the loss of Sothis hard, and he wasn’t even the one bonded to her. She crossed the distance over towards him even as he stood, and put the couch between them. He sighed, and spoke to her. “I… Hello, Byleth. I was just, um… Leaving. Please excuse me.” She flashed a worried look to Rhea, who nodded. Bereth stepped around her, and began walking quickly. Unfortunately for him, she was much faster than he was, and she got around in front of him in the middle of the audience chamber.

“Hey, hold on! I haven’t seen you in weeks. I’ve been worried about you, you know? Flayn keeps me up to speed on how you’re feeling, but… It’s good to see you.” He made a sort of strangled grunt, and nodded. He wouldn’t meet her eyes - with a pang of guilt, she remembered that her eyes and her hair were now the same shade of green as Sothis’. Perhaps looking at her was a living reminder of everything that he had lost when Sothis merged with her. She sighed. “Oh, Be… I’m sorry. I know me looking like this can’t be easy on you. I just… I want you to know that you can come and talk to me, or Father, any time. Wake me up if you have to, okay? Or, um, if you don’t want to talk to us, I know Edelgard is a good listener, and good at keeping secrets. Please, just… remember that you have a lot of people who care about you, okay? We can get through this together, I promise.”

He sighed. “I… Thank you for your concern. I’ll be fine, though. I just… I need to go. Goodbye, Byleth.” Without another word, he stepped around her and marched towards his quarters. Byleth felt smaller with him gone, and weak. If she couldn’t help her own brother deal with grief, how could she do even half of what she needed to accomplish? She sighed, and decided to at least try to set in motion what she’d come here for in the first place. She entered Rhea’s office again, shaking her head. “I’m worried about him.” She shut the door behind her, and cast Muffling on it. “He’s taking Sothis’ absence so much harder than I thought he would. I wish I knew how to help him.” Rhea nodded, sighing deeply, and rubbing her temples.

“Indeed. His spirit is greatly troubled, and I fear there is little that any of us who he has not chosen to open up to can do about it. We must trust those that _he_ trusts to look after him, and wait for him until he is ready.” Byleth sank down onto the couch opposite Rhea. “I guess... It’s just… It goes against who I am to leave him to suffer like this.” Rhea nodded grimly, and the two of them fell into an uneasy silence.

Finally, Byleth broke it. “For what it’s worth, there was a reason I came here today, before... all of that.” Rhea nodded, motioning for Byleth to continue. “I have a plan, but I need your help to execute it.” Rhea cocked an eyebrow at her, and motioned for her to continue. “I know what the Heroes’ Relics truly are… _Who_ they truly are. Six are already here at the monastery: the Aegis Shield, Crusher, the Lance of Ruin, Luin, the Rafail Gem and Thunderbrand. There are people here who will, as part of their inheritance or some other conceit of fate, come into possession of seven of the other Relics, including three ‘lost’ Relics. Of the remaining two… unfortunately, our enemies hold the remains of Noa and Timotheos… But for the first time in all my years, all of these wayward souls are within reach. I want to collect them all, and lay them to rest at last.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got *captivated* by another fic idea while I was writing this chapter. It's probably going to be my next project after A Matched Pair ends, if my sadboy Inigo fic doesn't beat it out in my internal ranking by then. This one is an AU where Seteth is the child and Flayn is the parent, and explores the consequences that that would bring to a Silver Snow route. If anyone wanted to test read its first chapter (or the Inigo fic's first chapter, for that matter), let me know. I'd be interested in knowing if there's anything there with either idea.
> 
> I really don't like Lorenz, especially pre-time skip. He's *such* a pompous buffoon, and it's part of why I make sure that he only ever ends up with a commoner in my playthroughs of Three Houses. Lorenz, when he learns and grows out of being up his own ass, is a decent character, but since Byleth hasn't done anything with the Golden Deer so far, he's still very much Not That. Byleth's kind of speedrunning his personal growth here, which probably won't stick as well as she wants it to, but oh well.
> 
> What Manuela says about equilibrium is one of the core concepts underpinning any and all theories of counseling that come from a background of systems theory. Family systems dislike change, and when one person in the system tries to make a change to better themselves, the other members can and do react to try to stop this shift. It's the concept of homeostasis, wanting to keep everything the same. Therapy from a systems perspective is about counteracting these reactions, and helping the system to establish a new equilibrium that accepts the positive change for one of its members.


	38. Where the Eagle and Lion Danced

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth and Edelgard get some answers, and find more questions. The Black Eagles engage in the Battle of the Eagle and Lion.

A sharp knock at Edelgard’s door woke her from a deep sleep on the night of the 25th of the Wyvern Moon. She tensed once she realized what was going on - it was very late, judging by the night sky outside, and she hadn’t been expecting any late night visitors. She unsheathed her dagger, holding it against her leg as she crept towards the door. She unlatched it, and opened it a crack, only to catch sight of green hair and eyes - it was Byleth. Edelgard let out a shaky sigh of relief, and stepped back from the door to let Byleth slip inside. She shut the door behind her, and extended a black cloak that reached nearly to the floor towards the now-confused Edelgard. The woman herself wore a similar cloak, hiding her familiar attire, though something else was underneath her cloak in the back given the odd lump Edelgard could just make out in the moonlight.

“My teacher, what is going on? It’s not like you to skulk about in darkness…” She took the cloak, hoping this would prompt Byleth to speak. Her hope was met as Byleth looked away, out the window. “I’ve gotten us a two hour window. We can go down and interrogate Anacharsis, but it has to be now. By now he’ll be more compliant, and there’s something I need to know.” Edelgard processed this information, then nodded. “I see. That’s fine, then… I’ll need to put actual clothes on, though. I imagine once we return, there won’t be any more time to sleep before we depart for Gronder Field, anyway.” Byleth nodded, and pressed her face into the corner by the door.

“I… Byleth, what are you..?” Byleth turned her head, looking confused. “I’m giving you privacy to change. Or did you--” “OH! No no, no, that’s… Thank you, I shall do just that. It works out, actually, as there’s something I need to bring up to you while we’re here.” Edelgard’s voice was a bit higher than usual, and she swallowed hard to return it to normalcy. “Dorothea spotted Hubert and I returning from our communications earlier in the month. She confronted me about it last week, and I ended up telling her a little about the work that I am doing, and my dreams for Fodlan. It was all relatively detail-free, of course, but… Well, she requested to join our little group officially even after hearing that version of things.”

Byleth hummed, her voice sounding odd from the corner where her face was pressed into. She was evidently thinking it over, which suited Edelgard. She quickly changed out of her sleep clothes into traveling clothes, and placed her dagger and a small hand axe on her belt. Finally, she announced that she was ready. Byleth turned around as she finished pulling on the dark cloak, and smiled. “Well, I’ve always liked Dorothea. She’s very quick-witted, and more than that, she has a good head for this sort of thing. In other times, she actually became a sort of spy for you, believe it or not. She’d be a good fit - I’ll bring her up to speed sometime soon. Good job, El.” Edelgard felt herself blush slightly. “It was not my doing, but… Even so. Thank you.” 

The two of them slipped quietly down the hall. Hubert was waiting for them, apparently having overheard them from the adjacent room, and had donned a dark cloak himself. Shrugging, Byleth motioned for him to come along - as if he would have left willingly. Their trio stole across the grounds to another of the hidden access points to the substructure of the monastery. Byleth led them down a winding set of passages, but Edelgard wasn’t able to pay attention enough to keep a picture of them in her mind. These tunnels were dark, dank, and cramped, and it reminded her terribly of the Imperial dungeons. She was only able to keep from losing herself to old memories by the sight of Byleth’s green hair swishing to and fro in front of her. She focused on it, anchored herself to it… 

And then, the three of them stepped out into a gigantic, yawning chasm. A pedestal with an odd white stone set into it stood at the edge of the little platform they’d walked out onto, and some sort of structure was suspended by giant chains out in the middle of the void. Before they could draw near to investigate the pedestal, Byleth flung her arm out to the side. “Hold it. Rhea’s put something here... “ She frowned, humming as she poked at what appeared to be thin air experimentally. Her humming got louder and more intense, to where Edelgard could actually feel a bit of a hum resonating in her own chest. Then, she stopped the noise suddenly, and barked out a small laugh.

“Rhea placed a little ward here to detect if anyone she doesn’t want going over the bridge tries it. Unfortunately, that means Hubert is going to have to stay here… But, she wouldn’t include herself in who the ward is supposed to block, and I don’t think she _can_ make it stop me… Lucky for us you’ve got a Crest of Seiros yourself, El.” Byleth smiled at her, then turned towards the pedestal. She placed her hand on the stone, and after a moment it turned a bright golden color. A bridge extended out from under their platform, linking it to the floating structure ahead of them. It was a bit thin for her liking, and there were no guardrails to speak of, but Edelgard had braved worse. She took a deep breath to steel herself, but let it out all at once when Byleth grabbed her hand. She looked sheepish, and wouldn’t meet Edelgard’s gaze. “I… I’m sorry. I don’t do well with heights, and I figured this would help ground me. Do you mind?” Edelgard had never minded anything less in her life, of course, but simply shook her head. 

The two of them made their way cautiously across the bridge, and Byleth sighed in relief once they got across. That did mean they had to unlink hands, but they had business to attend to. She swallowed hard as she stared at Jeritza, unmasked and unarmored, lying on a small cot in the corner of the first cell. Byleth tapped on the bars, waking him. She threw off her cloak, revealing the strange lump to be a sack fastened to her back. She slung it down in front of her, and produced a little metal tin from within it. Opening the tin revealed a few of the monastery kitchen’s sweet buns, and Edelgard noticed a light dancing in Jeritza’s eyes as he caught sight of them. Byleth produced a key from somewhere, and let herself inside Jeritza’s cell. He stayed in place, watching both of them carefully. Edelgard remained where she was as well - Ailell would sprout forth in bloom before she would willingly enter a prison cell.

Wordlessly, Byleth handed him the sweet buns. He stared for another moment or two before he took them, and began to devour them. Jeritza had a sweet tooth? Edelgard filed this information away as she watched him eat with gusto she would have never imagined possible from him outside of his other persona’s bloodlust. Once he finished, he hesitated for only a moment before handing the empty tin back to Byleth. Perhaps he considered attempting to escape? That would be foolish of him, but being imprisoned would make many do foolish things… Byleth returned to her side, locking the door again and putting a hand on her shoulder. She realized with a start that she had been staring off into space. Byleth looked concerned, and asked her “Are you alright?” Edelgard sighed. “No, but we have work to do. Starting here…”

She drew herself up to her full height, and spoke commandingly to the captive Hrym noble. “Jeritza. Who do you serve?” He blinked, then spoke softly, in his odd drawl. “You, Your Highness.” Edelgard nodded. “Correct. And I have new orders for you. Are you prepared to receive them?” He rose from his bed, standing in place a few feet away from the bars. “I am. My blade longs to quench itself…” Edelgard smiled at him. “You’ll have your chance once you are released, though that may take longer than anticipated. Please bear with us. Your orders, however, take effect immediately. You are to obey Byleth unquestioningly. She is your superior officer from this point forward. I realize that the Death Knight has some sort of… fixation on her. You will restrain him until such time as I allow you to fight her. That will not come for some time - we have a war to start, and win. You are also to acknowledge and follow her orders in front of others, including the archbishop. Am I understood?”

Jertiza’s face twitched, and his breathing began to get heavier. For a moment, Edelgard feared that this order, combined with a lack of exercise for the Death Knight part of Jeritza’s psyche, had broken him, but after a few more tense moments, his shoulders went slack. “I understand, Your Highness. I will comply. T-though… if you would, please try to keep the Professor and I apart on the battlefield. He is… insistent.” Edelgard nodded. “I understand, Jeritza. It may not always be possible, but I will take it into account. Now please… Try to get some rest. I will see you freed from this place before much longer.” He nodded in return. “Thank you, Your Highness. Goodbye.”

Amusement at _his_ dismissal of her bubbled up inside Edelgard, but she had no time to voice it - Byleth was already on the move, walking confidently down towards the final cell. She stopped in front of it, and Edelgard recoiled as she caught sight of yet another of the Agarthans in their true form. Anacharsis lifted his head at the sound of their footsteps, and his expression changed to loathing. “ _You!_ What have you _done_ to me?! I--” Byleth cut him off as she began rummaging through her sack again. “I told you before, didn’t I? I want information from you. I get what I want. I imagine you’re ready to talk, then?”

He turned away, though his head shook as he did so. His whole body was now shaking, which _almost_ made Edelgard feel concerned. It likely would have if he weren’t one of Those Who Slither in the Dark. Byleth lowered her voice to a deadly tone. “I asked you a question. _Are you_ ready to talk?” Anacharsis reeled like he’d been struck, and he choked out “Yes, damn you! I am!” before letting his head flop forward. His shaking stopped instantly - had Byleth somehow put him under some form of compulsion? Edelgard shivered at the thought. Byleth, meanwhile, pulled out clothes - basic, rather threadbare clothes, but clothes nonetheless. It struck her, suddenly, that Anacharsis was very naked.

Byleth unlocked the door, clothes in hand, and went inside. She raised her hand, and her eyes seemed to glow in the low light as she spoke again. “You will not move without my leave until I exit this cell again, nor will you attempt to escape.” Her tone was… _imperious_. Something inside Edelgard twisted up upon hearing her speak like that, but she had no time to consider it as Byleth began to undo some of Anacharsis’ many manacles. He was chained to the floor by an absurd number of them, which had been why she was unable to identify that he was naked until moments ago. Edelgard felt panic welling up inside her - what was Byleth _thinking_?! - but it dissipated as Byleth brought Anacharsis to a standing position, and began to dress him. She had a strange look on her face as she did it, a mixture of pity, disgust, and… something softer? How odd to think that Byleth might have felt moved towards one of their enemies, especially the one who cost her Sothis.

With her labors finished, she re-attached some of the manacles, allowing Anacharsis a limited amount of movement while still being far more firmly restrained than Jeritza. She stepped back, nodding to herself, then gathered up the unused manacles, and exited his cell. Upon re-locking the door, she stepped towards the end of the floating prison structure, and hurled the extra manacles off the side. Anacharsis looked as though he was going to be sick, and choked out a single word: “Why?”

Byleth sighed. “Because even an enemy deserves basic courtesy. Rhea’s methods were barbaric, but that’s only because she’s far more frightened of you than I am. Now then… I believe I asked before about food - I have some here, actually…” She pulled out another tin of sweet buns, but as the smell of them reached Anacharsis, he retched. “I would rather eat molten steel than whatever _that_ is.” Byleth nodded, putting the tin away. She hummed, tapping her fingers on her arm.

"Well, then what sorts of things do you people eat? We likely don't have much of it, but I could see about getting you a diet you're used to at the very least." He scoffed, twisting his face into a sneer. "Because of _you_ , Fell Star, my people had to progress beyond eating for sustenance. One of my implants regulates my nutrient intake. I will not starve." She nodded, falling silent for a moment.

“I have a few more questions for you tonight. You will answer them all to the best of your ability and knowledge.” He let out a long, low sigh, and nodded. Byleth smiled ever so slightly. “Alright then… Let’s see… Ah. I know. Was the entire area of contemporary Fodlan called Agartha, or was it only one nation?" Anacharsis raised his head, confusion evident on his face. "But one nation." Byleth hummed in contemplation, following up with "What was the name of Fodlan as a whole?" An almost wistful look spread over Anacharsis' pale features. "Its old name has been lost. We now call it Maya, for it is an illusion." Byleth nodded - evidently that made sense to her, though its significance was lost on Edelgard.

"I know your name is ‘Anacharsis’. Does it mean anything in your language?" The captive Agarthan froze, and contemplated Byleth's face for a moment. Then, just as he began to shake slightly from resisting Byleth’s compulsion, he sighed, and answered her. "I was named in hope for my people. Anacharsis means 'recovery'." She hummed, and looked downwards. It seemed unfair to Edelgard that someone like him should get a name with meaning like that. After another moment of silence, Byleth also sighed. "It's better than mine." He cocked an eyebrow at her. "’Byleth’ is just a name from a list. The thirteenth one on it. My mother, the vessel for Sothis made before me, was Sitri, the twelfth name. My brother got an actual name, though. His means 'covenant', though it's not from any language I know."

Talking about Bereth brought a gloomy expression onto Byleth’s face, which hardened into resolve after a few moments more. “Last questions. Were there any Agarthan infiltrators here at Garreg Mach besides Solon at the time of your capture, were you aware of any plans for additional ones to attempt to infiltrate at the time of your capture, and if the answer to either of those is yes, who is the target?” Anacharsis’ face went blank. Edelgard had expected him to resist, but as the minutes slipped by and his shaking grew stronger and stronger, she began to grow concerned. Could this kill him? Could they risk finding that out? His breathing grew ragged, and tears began to stream down his face. Finally, he broke, and cried out “No! And yes!” He fell to the floor on his hands and knees, gasping for breath. Byleth stiffened, not looking in Edelgard’s direction at all, and focused on their prisoner.

“And the last question?” He spat at her feet, but sighed wearily. “The idiot blade wasn’t meant to come along. She was going to impersonate a girl from the Empire. From the Ochs family, I believe.” Byleth frowned. “I already know about Kronya. I’m asking about other infiltrators.” Anacharsis shook his head slowly. “If you knew about her, then I have nothing to add. I don’t know of any others, though it wouldn’t surprise me if Thales tried something in retaliation for Solon’s failure.”

Byleth looked visibly relieved upon hearing this news. She even managed a small smile. “Alright then. That’s all I had for you this time, but I do have a request. Notice that I call it a request, rather than an order.” He stood up, leaning heavily against the bars for support, and glared at her. “Why should I care what you want, if you aren’t going to _make_ me?” Byleth turned, and began walking away from his cell, though she stopped a short distance away. “Because you ought to re-evaluate where your loyalties lie. Thales is powerless to help you. If you remain loyal to him, you’ll never see the sun again. But, if you pledged yourself to me, instead… I would let you bask in its warmth. Food for thought.”

Without waiting for his answer, she strode off, leaving a very confused Edelgard behind. She scrambled to catch up, and once they were far enough away to not be overheard, she began pressing Byleth. “What in the world _was_ that? That man was under some kind of compulsion, or my eyes were playing tricks on me! And those questions were bizarre, too. What is going on here, Byleth?” 

Byleth stopped at the edge of the bridge, fidgeting in place. In a small voice, she whispered: “I don’t know. I don’t… I don’t understand how I did that. I had wanted to treat him _humanely_ at first, but my emotions got the better of me, and suddenly I was casting a ward, and… Goddess, I’m no better than Rhea.” Edelgard stood rooted in place, thoroughly confused. If Byleth had wanted to treat him humanely, that made her questions make more sense, though her pressing for knowledge of Agarthan infiltrators seemed a bit odd… The green-haired woman’s shoulders began to shake, and Edelgard found the will to move forward. She laid a hand on Byleth’s shoulders, and spoke softly. “Come now. You _are_ better than Rhea. Your actions tonight showed that very clearly to me, at least. As far as your powers go… If you truly don’t know how you did it, I hardly see how it could be considered your fault. That would be like blaming a river for destroying things if it broke through its dam without warning.”

She shook her head. “People still curse the river in situations like that, even if it doesn’t make sense.” Edelgard sighed - engaging in philosophical debate in an underground prison was very low on the list of things she had been prepared for tonight. Instead of arguing the point, since Byleth seemed very set on her culpability (and since some small part of Edelgard was horrified by the casual power Byleth held over Anacharsis’ mind), she took Byleth’s hand again, and nudged her forward. “Let’s get out of here, alright? We have a long journey ahead of us, and it would be prudent to get back above ground before we’re missed. These thoughts would be better served in the light of day.” Byleth looked into her eyes for a moment, then nodded. They set off back across the bridge, and back up towards the dawn.

\---

Two full days later saw the sun rising across the verdant plains of Gronder Field. The harvest was in full swing elsewhere in the field, but this bit was kept bare and untended to allow for the Officer’s Academy’s annual tradition. The Battle of the Eagle and Lion, commemorating the War of the Eagle and Lion some four hundred years ago in Fodlan’s original timeline, was a grand affair for the students, the monastery staff, and the official representatives from the three nations of Fodlan. While nobles were, as a rule, not allowed to spectate freely, chosen representatives were allowed to join Rhea as she observed the battle from her vantage point to the north of the field. This year saw Prince-Regent Rufus of House Blaiddyd and Duke Rodrigue of House Fraldarius as the Kingdom’s representatives, Grand Duke Oswald of House Riegan and Count Edgar of House Gloucester as the Alliance’s, and Lord Volkhard of House Arundel and Count Adalbert of House Bergliez as the Empire’s.

While Byleth had had the misfortune of meeting Lorenz’ father before, she was shocked by how exceptionally polite he was at this meeting. She, of course, had met him during the course of the war, and his own position had been in a precarious state, but it was still quite unnerving to see the man bow and scrape before her like he was. Evidently word of her being “blessed by the Goddess” had leaked out faster than she had expected. She studied his face for a moment - it was quite similar to Lorenz’, though with more wrinkles and worry lines etched into it, and shining bits of silver interspersed with the purplish hair he shared with his son. His eyes were cold and calculating, though she would certainly take cautious ass-kissing to open derision. Having done his proper greeting with her (and no doubt planning on trying to find a way to marry her to Lorenz, or something else equally inane), he moved on to bother Rhea, who was sitting serenely on an ornate chair overlooking the field where the three houses were beginning to gather their troops.

Duke Oswald, Claude’s grandfather, was next. Byleth hadn’t ever met him, and was surprised to find that he was a fairly pleasant man, if distant. It must come with the territory - one doesn’t outlive their own heir in a cutthroat noble alliance by being overly friendly. Still, his shining green eyes reminded her too much of Claude. She exchanged pleasantries until he too moved on to Rhea. She let out a small sigh of relief as she was approached next by Rodrigue.

“Ah, it’s good to see you again, my friend. I must say, I had never expected that I would meet someone directly blessed by the Goddess Herself, much less befriend them.” Byleth smiled at him, the first genuine one she’d worn all morning. “It’s good to see you too, Lord Rodrigue. I hope there’s no hard feelings, but Felix won’t be taking home a victory today.” He grinned widely, and clapped a hand on her forearm. “Oh I don’t doubt that you’ve trained your students well, but my Felix is no slouch, to make no mention of His Highness, or young Sylvain. Either way, we should have an excellent showing this year. Ah, but if you’ll excuse me, I should pay my respects to Lady Rhea.” Byleth nodded. “Of course, Lord Rodrigue. It was good to see you again.” He nodded, and headed off.

Next up was Rufus, Dimitri’s uncle. She had never met him, as he’d been far too cowardly to face them on the field of battle during the war in any lifetime where he managed to survive, and usually ended up dead by Cornelia’s hand. Still, out from under her thumb, he did look to have regained a little of the pride and dignity Dimitri carried himself with. He kept his hair short, though he sported a sizable beard that was more white than blond these days. He bowed stiffly to her. “Lady Eisner. Word of your blessing has reached the ears of many a pious soul in Faerghus. It is an honor to make your acquaintance.” She stiffened a little, but remembered her manners and returned his bow. “No need for that, Lord Regent. I’m no noble - I was a mercenary before all of this, after all.”

He shook his head. “Mercenary though you may have been, House Eisner was one of the Kingdom’s minor houses a century ago. Despite the dissolution of your house, noble blood flows in your veins. Faerghus is proud of all its sons and daughters, much less ones who are touched by the Goddess’ own hand.” This actually managed to surprise Byleth - she had known her father was Faerghan from the alcoholism, gruff demeanor, and seeming immunity to cold, but _nobility?_ That was news. She hid her shock passably, filing that knowledge away for later. “I appreciate the sentiment, but it _is_ hard to think of myself like that. In any event, I’ve greatly enjoyed having the opportunity to speak with and train your nephew. Dimitri is a fine young man.” She hoped he would either take the hint and move on, or take the other hint and change the subject. Thankfully, he did both. “Indeed. I am quite proud of him. He is a strong boy, to soldier on as he has in the wake of my brother’s passing. But, I should pay my respects to Lady Rhea. If you’ll excuse me, Lady Eisner.” He nodded to her, and walked away. She let out a quiet sigh. Two nations down. But, that, of course, meant--

“Ah, Professor Eisner, I presume. It is good to _finally_ meet you.” A cold, disinterested voice reached her, and she turned from watching Rufus leave to stare into the eyes of Volkhard von Arundel. She had to stop herself from physically recoiling at the unexpected proximity she had to one of the people she hated the most in this world - Thales, wearing his guise as Edelgard’s formerly-loving uncle. She nodded, not trusting her voice to be free of any venom or anger. Thales narrowed his eyes slightly, and continued. “My dear niece seems quite _taken_ with you, you know. It seems you’re all I ever hear about, these days. For good reason, I suppose. My congratulations on being so... blessed.” She grit her teeth, and with all her force of will mustered a terse “Thank you, Lord Arundel.” A moment of silence passed between them, during which Byleth imagined killing this snake before her in increasingly violent and unpleasant ways. Then, mercifully, he let out a small breath, and turned to leave. “Well, I suppose I should visit with the archbishop next. Until we meet again, _Professor_ …”

Forgetting herself as he walked away, she spat on the ground, only to look up as armored footsteps approached her. Count Bergliez, Caspar’s father, stood in front of her, an amused expression on his face. He was like looking into the future - Caspar would grow up to inherit his father’s looks to a staggering degree. He kept his hair a little more long and flowing than Caspar would, and also sported a pair of thick sideburns, but it was otherwise like looking into an uncanny mirror. “I didn’t take you for such a keen judge of character, Professor. In truth I feel much the same, but… Well, what can you do?” He shrugged, then extended a gauntleted hand. “Adalbert von Bergliez. Welcome to Gronder Field, Miss Eisner.” She shook it, smiling once again. Though he would have no memory of it, _she_ had fond memories of the Count from her lifetimes spent fighting at Edelgard’s side. Even as an enemy general, Count Bergliez had been someone she respected greatly. Several times she had forced the Empire into an unwinnable situation, and rather than allow his men to be slaughtered, Count Bergliez would deny Thales’ orders to continue the fight and instead offer himself up if it meant sparing the lives of his men. For as little as she cared about honor and glory, Count Bergliez was an honorable man if ever there was one.

“It’s an honor to meet you, Gen-- er, Count Bergliez.” He smiled at her lapse, rather than being confused. “Ah, I see you’ve been listening to Caspar too much. I’m just a man, no matter what I’ve done for the Empire’s glory.” She nodded, then leaned closer, lowering her voice. “While I have you here… Did Edelgard’s, ah… recruits make it to Fort Merceus?” He glanced in the direction of the Kingdom nobles, and lowered his voice as well. “They did. I’ve been quite impressed - for a ‘nameless commoner’, that redhead is quite the commander. You might be interested in knowing that his wife gave birth, oh, two weeks ago? A girl. They named her Aideen, I believe. Beautiful little thing, and hair red as sunset already.”

Byleth’s chest filled with warmth. This was the first time she could remember that one of her changes had not only _saved_ a life, but allowed a new one to come into the world. She smiled brightly. “That’s a wonderful name. I wonder if I ought to tell Sylvain…” Count Bergliez shrugged. “That situation is complicated, if what Lady Edelgard’s letter said was even half of the truth. But, he might like to know it. In any event, I ought to speak with Lady Rhea before it gets much later. It was good to meet you, Professor.” “Likewise, Count.”

Byleth heard soft bickering approaching up the hill towards the viewing area as Count Bergliez bowed low in front of Rhea. She caught sight of Hanneman and Manuela, who were (as usual) going at each other over something she probably didn’t care enough about to know. They dropped whatever it was as they reached her, mercifully, and both wished her good morning. She responded in kind, and the three of them made small talk for a moment. Eventually, she sighed, and looked at the two of them seriously. “I wanted to thank you both. You didn’t have to sit out this battle for my sake, and I appreciate that you would go through the trouble for me.” Before either of them could answer, a horn sounded, playing a little tune that she knew well heralded the beginning of the opening ceremony. With a jolt, she realized that Rhea had asked her to be at her side when she addressed the students. She hurriedly apologized to her fellow professors and dashed away, leaving them bemused.

As she stepped to Rhea’s side, she received a small smile. “I had begun to worry you might have forgotten. Come.” The two of them stepped close to the cliff’s edge. Rhea began to channel energy into her throat, which gave Byleth an unpleasant sensation of deja vu. She half expected a beam of light to erupt out of it, though that foolish thought was put to rest when Rhea began to speak to the assembled and waiting students.

“Cherished students of the Officer’s Academy: Today, we come together to commemorate a moment in Fodlan’s history which defined the course of our great nations. Today’s battle is a mock battle - no blood shall be spilled on these grounds again this day, which have seen countless fall upon it in the glorious past. You stand here, the products of hard work, determination, and the blessings of the Goddess. I would ask that you all give your best efforts today, that you may bring honor to your houses, your families, and your nations. Therefore, I declare that this, the two hundredth such commemoration of the War of the Eagle and Lion, is opened. Begin!” Banners of the Church of Seiros were raised along the cliffside, and the trumpeters blasted out their signal once more. The Battle of the Eagle and Lion had officially started.

\---

Edelgard stood at the head of her class’ forces. They were all leading troops in this battle - no mere confrontation between individuals would win the day here. What’s more, Byleth was far off, and couldn’t intervene, plan, or strategize with her. She felt slightly nervous, even though this was only a mock battle. None of the combatants here were armed with a lethal weapon, and the mages had all been instructed to temper their magic, but even so… All of their training and all of the faith that Byleth had put into each of them was on the line. She took a deep breath, and whispered a little to Sothis within the depths of her heart to keep an eye on her. It didn’t matter that she was gone - that little goddess had been her friend, and she could use anything to steady her nerves. She listened to Rhea drone on self-importantly, shifting her weight impatiently. 

She was out of her heavy armor, and hadn’t even brought her usual backup of chainmail and leather. Instead, she was in the traditional lord’s regalia, which made her feel practically naked by how poorly armored it was. Her battalion was heavily armored, at least, which meant that she would be in the thick of things. To her left, Hubert and his forces were watching the tree line across the battlefield. His new dark bishop robes suited him well, advertising how dangerous he truly was. She knew that the Golden Deer had been deployed on the eastern side of the field, exactly opposite of their location on the western side, so having his eyes on it made her feel more secure as she kept an eye northward. The Blue Lions were somewhere up there, between the Eagles and Deer, but their location meant that they were likely to capture the ballista and central hill before anyone else had a chance to.

Ferdinand sat atop a magnificent destrier, having easily made paladin before the Wyvern Moon’s first week was out. His battalion was all cavalry, which she planned to use to great effectiveness in a mirror of their tactics against the demonic beasts last month. Behind them was Petra, garbed as an assassin, Caspar, who had made both warrior and grappler but decided on the strange, chain-laden armor of the grappler because it was “cool as hell”, and Dorothea, who was in warlock’s robes dyed a dark crimson. She had forgone her usual hat, not wanting it to get lost on a chaotic battlefield, and looked ever so slightly older without it. All had their own battalions - a group of Imperial rogues for Petra, a battalion of axemen for Caspar, and Imperial thunder mages for Dorothea.

In their back ranks were Linhardt, who had easily passed bishop certification, and Bernadetta, who had surprised them all by meeting the requirements for both sniper and paladin. Today, though, she was dressed as a sniper, and was armed with a wicked-looking longbow. Linhardt was leading a corps of medics, and Bernadetta had archers and pikemen to keep cavalry from harassing her archers. In the interest of fairness, Lysithea, Flayn, Hapi, and Constance had all elected to sit out, which Edelgard was not happy about. Still, she supposed that it was fitting to earn a victory from a position of similar strength rather than by overwhelming numbers.

At the trumpets and banners, Edelgard let out a mighty war cry, and swept east-northeast. They wanted to make for the central hill while keeping the fortifications just north of their starting position on one side, to discourage the Deer from overwhelming them on one front as the Lions broke on them from the north. This was the one part of the plan everyone seemed to be in agreement on - Dimitri wouldn’t be able to resist the allure of dueling Edelgard personally, and at least part of the Blue Lions’ forces would inevitably make for them immediately. She stiffened as she caught sight of sunlight glinting off of heavy armor on the central hill, and barked orders to scramble just as a chalk ball rammed into the ground next to a couple of her soldiers. It exploded and covered them in bright orange dust - they were now “dead”, though most of her battalion had scrambled away. Arrows began raining down on the hill from the eastern forest, and the Lions occupying it, most likely Ashe on the ballista and Dedue on guard duty, switched their attention towards their new foes. Before she could take advantage of this, however, a Faerghan war song reached her ears, and she spotted Ingrid and Sylvain leading a cavalry charge from the north.

_Saw ye the blazing star?_

_The heavens look down on freedom's war,_

_And light her torch on high!_

_Bright on the dragon-crest_

_It tells that glory's wing shall rest,_

_When warriors meet to die!_

_Let our fell tyrants read despair,_

_And vengeance in its flame;_

_Hail ye, my bards! the omen fair_

_Of conquest and of fame,_

_And swell the rushing mountain-air_

_With songs to Blaiddyd’s name!_

She smiled wryly - they _were_ doing the War of the Eagle and Lion properly, weren’t they? - and ordered her Eagles to dig in and break the charge as it arrived, moving her own battalion in front to act as bait. Bernadetta ran up behind Edelgard, and her pikemen mixed in with Edelgard’s armored knights to harass the cavalry charge while her archers began to let fly on her command. Her voice was still a little shaky, but there was a grim determination underneath it that made Edelgard’s heart swell with pride at how far the shy girl had come.

Hubert and Ferdinand signaled that they were ready for a counter-offensive, so Edelgard began a charge towards the retreating flank of Ingrid’s forces. Predictably, Sylvain didn’t want his childhood friend in danger, and rushed to cut off Edelgard’s advance. Unfortunately for him and his cavalry units, Hubert now knew how to cast Dark Spikes, which when combined with the Mire spells his dark mages were using, slowed the Faerghan cavalry to a crawl. He held Sylvain’s forces in place until Ferdinand’s battalion was ready to charge in and sow mayhem, and released the spell at the last possible moment, quickly pivoting his attention to Ingrid’s forces. Airbursts of Dark magic forced the pegasi among her forces to land, including Ingrid herself, where they were ensnared just as efficiently as the earth-bound cavalry. Edelgard’s forces surrounded Ingrid’s, and Hubert’s mages switched tack to long-range aerial magic to prevent them from flying off. She and Ferdinand quickly pushed in and attacked Ingrid and Sylvain, eventually managing to land enough hits on them to eliminate them. Their forces trudged off the field, and Ferdinand let out a fierce war cry in jubilation.

Meanwhile, Caspar’s forces managed to overwhelm Annette’s mage corps, who hadn’t even had the time to set up before he was on them. The young warlock surrendered without injury, though Caspar’s excitement was short-lived. His battalion was smashed into by a cavalry charge led by Dimitri, and he was forced to retire after he found himself at a severe range disadvantage to Dimitri’s lance. Dimitri was leading his cavalry from on foot, which explained why he had not been spearheading the initial charge, and he was dressed in lord’s regalia as well. He caught Edelgard’s eye, and hurled his lance into the ground. He tossed aside his half-cloak, revealing two rapiers on his belt. Drawing one, he called out to her. “Edelgard! I have been looking forward to this! Come, and face me as an equal on this hallowed field!”

If Edelgard had been feeling cocky, she might well have ordered Hubert to take him then and there, but something in her demanded she meet Dimitri one-on-one. She sheathed her axe on her back, and started over towards him. They left their battalions in a loose circle, and he tossed her his extra rapier once she drew close. They drew up into duelist’s salutes, then began an elegant dance of blades. Unlike Dimitri’s rather poor ballroom dancing, he was far more confident and self-assured with a blade, and his innate Blaiddyd strength forced her to rely more on dodging than she was used to. She smiled in spite of herself - this was more fun than she had been expected.

Closer to the central hill, Petra and Felix were locked in a dance of blades all their own, this once far faster and more frenetic. They were absolutely the two strongest sword fighters among all the students, though it soon became obvious that Petra’s strengths lay more in ambush tactics and quick fights, not protracted duels. As their forces fought around them, Petra began to give more and more ground, until she eventually was knocked back, her training sword flying from her grasp. Felix caught it in an effortless move, and brought both wooden blades up to her neck. She nodded, acknowledging his skill, and began to leave the battlefield. Felix indulged in a moment of self-congratulation, which proved to be his doom as the very air around him grew heavy. He whirled around, spotting Dorothea rushing at him in what appeared to him to be a blind rage. He smirked, and readied himself. He caught her blade easily on his training sword, and sneered. “I’d expected at least _some_ challenge, you know.” Dorothea smirked at him, then blasted him with Thunder magic at point blank range.

The raven-haired swordmaster flew through the air, his body sizzling and tingling all over. He landed in a crumpled heap, though he was not _quite_ out of the fight yet. Mercedes ran over with her healer corps to attempt to patch him up, but they were ambushed by Bernadetta’s forces. Mercedes was forced out of the battle, and Felix, now officially out of healers who would be able to help him, begrudgingly surrendered to Dorothea. He eyed her half-magic, half-sword tactics with a new curiosity, and opened and closed his hand experimentally. Dorothea caught a small spark arcing between his fingers, and a faint smile on his face as he stalked off to visit the medic tents.

Edelgard and Dimitri’s battle raged on, the two of them growing tired. They had, after a point, mutually agreed to utilize the power of their crests, and while it made Dimitri’s blows all the more punishing and painful now that they were backed with the power of the Crest of Blaiddyd, her own Crest of Seiros was obviously wearing him down, as well. He was far slower than she was, which meant she could force him to block, rather than dodge. Slowly but surely, this tactic was wearing away at his energy. Unfortunately for her, she was _also_ running low, and they still hadn’t seen any sign of the Golden Deer besides the initial arrow barrage. She grimaced, focusing on the fight more intently.

Suddenly, a roar split the battlefield, and two arrows whizzed out of nowhere, striking Dimitri in the back. He was eliminated. The two of them turned to look at his assailant, only to find Claude astride a white wyvern, bow singing as he harassed the Black Eagles’ battalion forces. Another roar echoed across the battlefield, and they caught sight of a shock of pink hair atop a brown wyvern - Hilda was swooping towards Ferdinand’s forces, and Claude winged off to join her and her battalion of wyvern riders. Edelgard swore under her breath - this battle had just become far more complicated.

\---

From her vantage point next to Rhea, Hanneman, and Manuela, Byleth eyed the Golden Deer’s forces with a frown. There was a mix of familiar sights, like Lorenz and Leonie astride handsome mounts as paladins, and Raphael in a grappler’s armor, but the rest of the Golden Deer were in very unexpected arrangements. She noted, with a hint of irony, that they were _her_ choices for the Deer - of course Claude would remember them… Hilda was leading a small battalion of wyvern riders, only missing her family’s Relic to match the picture of destruction she remembered. Ignatz wore the garb of an assassin, which would allow him far more mobility and still give him a chance to use his bow skills. Leicester rogues flanked him, though as they were armed with bows, they were likely more dangerous than Petra’s battalion to her students. Marianne was dressed as a valkyrie, and held a magic wand. She had a small number of other valkyries with her, and looked a bit more comfortable on horseback than she had ever looked on foot. A mobile healer was trouble unless the Eagles could take her out…

Claude himself had, at some point, sent for his white wyvern from Almyra, rather than abiding by the tradition of the house leaders facing each other as lords. He was a terror as a flying archer, and unless Ashe got a lucky shot on him, things were _going_ to go badly. The final commander for the Golden Deer took her by complete surprise - there, in war monk attire, was Balthus von Albrecht. She looked at Manuela, dumbfounded. “What the hell? Balthus isn’t even a student anymore - he graduated!” Manuela smiled slyly. “Well, that’s true, but since you poached Lysithea early in the year, I’ve been down a student. I received the _loveliest_ note from Count Ordelia a few days ago, requesting that Lady Rhea allow Balthus to fight for the Golden Deer in her stead.” Byleth eyed Rhea, who looked extremely pleased with herself. “Is that so..?” Rhea chuckled. “It is indeed. I thought it would be amusing, and I am rarely wrong about such things.” She dropped her voice so that only Byleth could hear, and added “Not to mention that it has been some time since I felt the effects of Chevalier’s blood…”

She frowned, watching the Lions break south towards the Eagles and the central hill. Ashe and Dedue took it immediately, and Ashe lined up a shot towards Edelgard. She held her breath as it flew through the air, then let out a relieved sigh when the chalk bolt missed her house leader. The Deer were moving towards the hill carefully, keeping their forces out of sight in the forest. Then, as one, their archers began to unleash volley upon volley, forcing Dedue to cover Ashe with his tower shield. The young Blue Lions sniper adjusted the ballista, and began unleashing bolts towards the Golden Deer in retaliation. His aim was true several times - he struck a few of the wyverns in Hilda’s battalion, and landed one perfectly in Raphael’s chest. He got up on his own power, laughing and congratulating Ashe on his aim. Ashe, sweet boy that he was, called out to make sure Raphael was really okay, and was repaid for his trouble by Claude landing three shots in his shoulders, knocking him out of the battle.

Dedue couldn’t work the ballista, but he refused to give it up without a fight. Ignatz and Balthus charged up towards him while Lorenz and Leonie charged north around the hill to flank the Eagles and remaining Lions. By now, it was just Felix, Mercedes, and Dimitri, but the fight between Dedue’s forces and the remaining two Golden Deer infantry battalions had her attention at the moment. Balthus was tough, and Ignatz was fast, but ultimately neither of them could get the edge on Dedue. His armor was thicker than it had any reason to be, and he shrugged off glancing blows without even worrying about them. A lucky swipe of his axe caught Ignatz in the chest, and the assassin went sprawling to the ground. He surrendered shortly thereafter, and Balthus redoubled his efforts. He managed to bat Dedue’s axe out of his hands, which led to an all-out slugfest between the two large men. Unfortunately for the Debonair King of Grappling, Dedue’s armor was not affected in the slightest by his onslaught, and eventually Balthus had to admit defeat. His battalion had reduced Dedue’s forces significantly, but there were still enough of them left over to hold the hill, at least until Marianne’s valkyries rode up.

Marianne called out to Dedue, but Byleth couldn’t make out what she said. He refused to move, even to attack, and shook his head before responding to her. Judging by the blush visible on Marianne’s face from the clifftop vista, Dedue had said something insightful about her relationship with Dimitri. Inexplicably, he gathered his remaining forces and quit the field. Perhaps he had no intention of fighting her, since Dimitri cared for her? That would be the sort of thing Dedue would do, even in this situation. She smiled wryly as Marianne galloped north to rejoin with Lorenz and Leonie - this meant that the Blue Lions had only Dimitri left, as Dorothea had eliminated Felix and Bernadetta eliminated Mercedes. “Better luck next year, Hanneman”, Manuela cooed. The crest scholar accepted his house’s loss with dignity.

Byleth returned her attention to the battlefield just in time to watch as Claude shot Dimitri in the back, and joined Hilda in an attack on Ferdinand’s forces. Her chest grew tight and Hilda delivered a savage blow to Ferdinand. He caught it on his shield, but it was delivered with enough force (and with the momentum of a wyvern in flight as well) to knock him off of his horse. He was forced to surrender, which was _quite_ a blow to the Eagles. They now only had Edelgard, Hubert, Linhardt, Bernadetta, and Dorothea remaining, against the Deer’s Claude, Lorenz, Hilda, Leonie, and Marianne. 

Suddenly, Claude’s wyvern let out a strangled cry - its wing had been pierced through by one of Bernie’s long shots, which forced him to dismount. If there was one thing Claude was consistent about, it was how much he loved that wyvern. On the ground, Claude was still certainly a threat - he was an accomplished marksman, and an able swordsman as well. But at the very least, the only wyvern forces the Eagles had to worry about now were with Hilda. Byleth looked for her pink hair, and her chest tightened up with fear when she found her at last.

Hilda was bearing down on a terrified Bernadetta, axe in hand. Bernadetta kept missing shots, and Hilda was going to smash into her at this rate. It was clear she was still not used to the sheer power that came from riding a wyvern - if she hit Bernie in the chest at that speed, and with as much intensity as she usually did, it could result in a _serious_ wound. It might even… No. She couldn’t let herself think like that. And yet, try as she might, she couldn’t get the thought out of her mind. Her body grew hot, and her breathing became labored. Rhea cast a concerned look her way, but she was no longer in a space to recognize that. She only had eyes for Hilda and Bernie. She was so _hot_ … Why was it this hot in the Wyvern Moon? Hilda’s axe bore down on Bernie, who shakily tried to line up a final shot. Byleth raised a hand, crying out wordlessly for Bernadetta’s safety--

And Hilda, wyvern and all, suddenly shot backwards. Her motions leading into the swing played in reverse, and for a moment all Byleth could feel was searing heat. She looked down at her hand, realizing that the Crest of Flames had manifested, then back towards Hilda and Bernadetta’s battle. Suddenly, Hilda stopped moving backwards, and resumed her forward trajectory, evidently unaware she had moved backwards at all. Bernadetta looked extremely confused, but used the time that episode bought her to line up a true shot. She fired rapidly, striking Hilda and her wyvern until they were forced to land. Hilda conceded with a huff, and rode off. Byleth let out a huge sigh of relief, but it was short-lived as Claude landed a shot in-between Bernadetta’s shoulder blades. She yelped in pain, and dropped her bow.

Manuela rubbed her eyes in disbelief. She looked at Hanneman, then at Rhea, then lastly at Byleth, who had thankfully had the good sense to lower her arm by then. “I’m not going crazy, right? Hilda just went backwards.” Hanneman hummed in agreement, musing under his breath about what could have caused it. Rhea cocked an eyebrow at Byleth, but the look of utter confusion on her face was enough to convince Rhea that she had no idea how it had happened either. She scanned the faces of the assembled nobles - all besides Thales looked confused, and the low chatter from them indicated that they were also trying to figure out what they had just watched happen. Thales, however, was looking directly at her, his face set into a look of pure loathing. She sighed. This was _definitely_ going to make things more difficult.

\---

Edelgard watched in disbelief as Hilda, her axe mere moments from striking Bernadetta down, flew backwards. It was more than simply moving away from her target, though - her movements reversed, and it looked for all the world like when she had used Sothis’ powers to turn back time. Yet, it was different, too - no one else was affected by this reversal, only Hilda. Somehow, it had become localized. She looked up towards Byleth, who had her hand outstretched and a completely bewildered look on her face. She chuckled to herself - one mystery solved and another one opened was the name of the game with Byleth - before cursing as Claude shot Bernadetta. He was on foot now, which was good at least, but that made him only slightly less dangerous.

The sound of galloping caught her attention, and she spotted Lorenz, Leonie, and Marianne charging in from the north. She called out to the remaining Eagles, drawing Hubert, Linhardt, and Dorothea to her side. Their battalions formed a line in front of them, buying their commanders time to discuss their actions. She sighed, quickly thinking over possible strategies until she landed on one she liked. “Alright. I want to work as two teams. Hubert and Linhardt, I want you to create a maelstrom of aerial Dark Spikes. Halt the cavalry advance if you can, or better yet eliminate the cavalry commanders. I will use my forces as a back line that you can retreat into as needed. If your attempt is unsuccessful, Dorothea and I will act as bait for a cavalry charge, and eliminate those we can while you reposition yourself and try again. Understood?” The three of them nodded, issuing commands to their troops. Dorothea’s battalion swapped places with Linhardt’s, and the Black Eagles’ resident White and Black magic experts began to weave Edelgard’s custom spell. Their battalions poured their own magical strength into it, and when they finally released the spell, it caught Leonie and Marianne completely unaware. Unhorsed and battered, the two of them had no choice but to surrender. Lorenz dodged out of the way by some incredible bit of luck, but Edelgard had a plan for him.

She positioned herself directly in his line of sight, and began to posture with her axe as though she was preparing to cut him down as he charged. He bristled visibly at the challenge being laid before him, and charged in at her only to be caught in a joint magic barrage between herself and Dorothea - she cast a basic Fire spell, while Dorothea cast Thoron. The two spells collided right on top of him, sending the purple-haired paladin sprawling. Clearly beaten, he gave up with however much dignity he could muster from the ground. Dorothea flashed Edelgard a smile before running off to give Linhardt his battalion back and retrieve her own. Edelgard relaxed for a moment, before remembering where she was and who was still left to fight her.

Like clockwork, Claude re-appeared from nowhere and took aim at Hubert. His aim was true, and Hubert was left with no choice but to withdraw. Linhardt ran over towards Edelgard, and was almost stopped by Claude as well. He would have been eliminated for certain had Dorothea not attracted Claude’s attention by hurling a Meteor at his position. Now convinced that she was the bigger threat, he swapped focus to her. This allowed Linhardt to reach Edelgard’s position, but Dorothea was shot down before Edelgard could move to protect her. Claude was now out of arrows, and he pulled a sword free. Suddenly, Edelgard got an idea, and smiled at Linhardt. “Say… Remember the move you pulled with Flayn in training during our first group exercise day with Jeralt?” He widened his eyes, and nodded. “I only have enough energy left in me for one shot of that, so you need to make it count. Also, if he hits me anyway, you’ll owe me some research material.” She smiled even wider, and hefted her axe. “Hair or blood?” His eyes widened in surprise - evidently he hadn’t actually planned on her accepting, much less offering him a choice - and then his face twisted into a grimace. “Hair takes too long. Better make it blood, as much as I hate the idea of handling it.”

Calling out to the approaching figure of Claude, Edelgard began taunting him. “Ah, so the Master Tactician fell prey to the oldest problem an archer can face? Odd, to think that one so collected as you would find yourself forced to enter a fight like this.” His eyes were cold, and when he spoke, there was no hint of mirth in his voice. “Mighty cocky for someone who’s never had the misfortune to find herself at the tip of my blade in living memory. Perhaps we should correct that, eh Princess?” She responded by flourishing her axe, which prompted him to charge. Linhardt kept one hand on her back, and began to let a low-level healing spell out. The light made Claude overconfident - he thought she was hurt, which made this the perfect opportunity to strike. From behind her, just before Claude’s wooden blade would have struck true and eliminated her, she heard Linhardt scoff. Then, the sensation of warping surrounded her - she was now behind Claude, and began a brutal swing directly for him. She heard Linhardt cry out as he was struck down, and put even more power into her swing. When it connected, she laid Claude out on the ground. Completely spent, he sighed deeply. “Damn. I can’t believe we lost… Tell Teach not to cheat for you next time.” 

Edelgard alone was left standing, as she leaned on her axe. From off in the distance, trumpets sounded, and a crier announced: Victory in the Battle of the Eagle and Lion went to the Black Eagles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is Byleth (in this fic) actually afraid of heights? Slightly, yes. That's why she's never on a wyvern in battle, though it really is only minor discomfort. Did she play it up just a teensy bit? Mmmmmmmaybe.
> 
> The Officer's Academy was established in roughly Imperial year 980, so I'm being very literal here by saying it's the 200th Battle of the Eagle and Lion. Of course Rhea would want students to relieve the War of the Eagle and Lion every year since she agreed to let the Academy exist.
> 
> The Blue Lion's battle song is a Welsh poem called "Owain Glyndwr's War Song", which celebrates the final Welsh rebellion against English rule by the eponymous Welsh noble, descended from the kings of Powys. While his rebellion ultimately failed, he had some limited success from 1400 to 1405. I honestly had to change extremely little about this first verse of the song (the line about tyrants was originally about their "pale" tyrants, which would have hit too close to home for Pan the Tactician, and the name Glyndwr was changed to Blaiddyd). The song can be read in its entirety here, though I was unable to find any videos of it being sung. https://www.contemplator.com/wales/oweng.html
> 
> \---
> 
> Etymology Corner with Supersemantic:
> 
> "Maya" comes from Sanskrit, and does in fact mean "illusion", generally in the sense of magical illusion over any other type. In both Buddhism and Hinduism it relates to the false idea (to the Buddhist and the Hindu) that the material world is real or of any substance. Since the last stronghold city of the Agarthans is called Shambhala, it only makes sense that their view of the above-ground world would be negative now. (As an aside, Agartha is the name of an underground paradise kingdom in nineteenth century Theosophist belief, and is frequently confused with Shambhala, the prophesied kingdom of the as-yet unborn Buddha Maitreya, who (in some sects of Buddhist belief) will lead a resurgence of Buddhist philosophy in roughly the 2300s or so. Shambhala itself inspired and is frequently conflated with Shangri-La, a mythical paradise located somewhere in Tibet.)
> 
> "Anacharsis" is a Greek word that means "recovery" or "resuscitation". His name is one of those neat double meaning ones, where he *was* in fact named after Anacharsis the Scythian, who is sometimes listed as one of the Seven Sages of ancient Greece, but also for what his name actually means. 
> 
> Edgar as Count Gloucester's given name is a fun bit of poking around in Intsys' original naming conventions for the Leicester nobility. Gloucester is taken from the Earl of Gloucester in Shakespeare's King Lear, as are the family names Goneril, Riegan, and Ordelia, as well as the given name of Claude's grandfather, Duke Oswald the Old. Edgar, in King Lear, is the Earl of Gloucester's oldest son and only legitimate heir.
> 
> Adalbert is a common-ish German name that comes from old Germanic words for "noble" and "bright". Adrestia is more inspired by Prussia than Germany but, eh. Sue me. I like Caspar's dad a lot if you couldn't tell, so I named him "cool noble guy" von Bergliez.
> 
> Aideen is a form of Etain, a name from Irish mythology. It can be translated as "passion", "jealousy", or even "fire". She's sometimes thought of as a sun goddess, and other times as a princess who falls in love with a fairy king only to be transformed into a fly by his wife, who was jealous of her having taken her husband from her. It's a wild story, though none of this has anything to do with baby Aideen - it's just the red hair that got her the name.


	39. Broken Time and Merry-Making

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edelgard receives some disturbing information, Byleth tests the limits of her new power, the Officer's Academy comes together for a night of feasting and merriment, and Byleth asks Jeralt about their family.

Edelgard was elated as the three house leaders met up at the ridge where their professors and Rhea were assembled. They had _done_ it! The Black Eagles - her friends - had prevailed over the other two houses. And that was _with_ Claude utilizing his future knowledge, too! Byleth’s smile was as wide as could be, which amplified the warmth inside Edelgard’s own heart. She shook hands with Dimitri (who was smiling despite his defeat) and Claude (who was not, but was at least attempting not to sulk), before Byleth pulled her into a quick hug. The contact was brief, but electrifying, and Edelgard felt ever so slightly dazed afterwards as Byleth maneuvered her over to Rhea. Rhea congratulated her on her house’s victory, but a sudden chill made Edelgard’s attention wander from the praise. She looked around surreptitiously, and spotted Thales in disguise, glaring at her.

After making polite small talk long enough to be considered polite, she excused herself from Rhea’s presence, gave Byleth’s hand a quick squeeze for moral support, and walked alone over towards Thales. She could feel Dimitri and Byleth boring holes into her back as she walked, but she did not waver. She nodded as she came to a stop near him, giving him a terse “Uncle” in greeting. His voice was low, and no hint of congratulations came from him. “Why had I not heard of _that_ power before, Edelgard?” Edelgard’s mind raced - he must be referring to the odd event with Hilda, but she had _no_ idea how it happened. It was reasonable to guess that Byleth had done it, likely on accident as she had never done it before now, but there was no way for her to say that to Thales without revealing that she knew much, much more about Byleth than she was letting on. Finally, she settled on simply shrugging. “This was the first time I’ve ever seen anything even remotely like that happen, so I couldn’t exactly report on it.”

In private, Thales would have slapped her for cheekiness, and they both knew it. She kept a smirk off of her face, for that _would_ earn her a slap regardless of the faux pas it would be, but inwardly she revelled in this small act of defiance. Thales let out a frustrated hiss. “Fine. See to it that you watch her carefully from her on. I would hate to think you were _lying_ to me, especially after I went and got you a little present for your victory.” Confusion overtook her, and she cocked her head to the side. “What do you mean by that?” Thales smirked. “Your shadow’s idea from earlier, of course. Epsilon has been fully cut off from the network. You are to leak the information in this letter to the Knights of Seiros, who will deploy troops to deal with the threat it details. You, meanwhile, will destroy the lab, kill everyone within it, and overload its reactor.” He pulled a letter out of his robes and handed it to her. She slipped it inside her lord’s regalia, to be read later, and paused, frowning. “I thought the idea was for my elimination of S-- Epsilon’s new head to be done publicly, to preventatively shift suspicion away from me?” 

Thales sighed. “You are not that much of a fool, surely. By delivering this to the Knights personally, you ensure that the archbishop hears that it was you who gave this information to her crusaders. What does the trust of petty fools matter, when we can blind those at the top?” She shifted uncomfortably before nodding. “I suppose that will have to do then. I will see it done.” She turned to leave, only for Thales to reach out roughly and grab her by the shoulder. His fingers and palm knew _just_ how to dig into her scars, and she winced in pain. “One more thing”, he hissed into her ear. “Your timetable is accelerating. You have until the Guardian Moon to do things your way, otherwise you may find Imperial forces acting… beyond your control. Do not even _think_ of betraying us.”

Her blood froze within her veins. The pressure on her shoulder lessened, and she found herself floating back towards Byleth and Dimitri. She hoped her face was unreadable, but Byleth, as ever, could see right through her. Still… There was nowhere to talk, here, and she shook her head ever so slightly. Thales was still watching, after all. Fear nestled in the bottom of her stomach like a burning piece of coal, one that would burn away at her until the students of the Officer’s Academy arrived back home at Garreg Mach on the 29th of Wyvern Moon.

\---

Jeralt sighed. He’d wanted to be there at the gates to congratulate By on her win (and, if he cared to admit it, to see the looks on her brats’ faces when all their training had paid off), but duty _always_ called at the most inopportune moments. Here he was, stuck in his office waiting on Catherine to meet him with reports from the scouts out in Arundel territory, near Remire. Something was going on there, and it made his skin itch not knowing what exactly it was. A knock at the open door heralded Catherine’s arrival, and Jeralt shook himself to pay attention. “Alright”, he growled out. “Let’s hear it.”

Catherine nodded, then began to rattle off what she knew. “Our scouts report that a significant portion of Remire’s population has just… vanished. In some cases it’s individuals, who leave behind distraught family members but otherwise appear to have completely disappeared. In others…” She hesitated, clearly uneasy. He nodded, trying to reassure her, and noticed at the same time that light footsteps had stopped just outside his door. A flash of red and silver told him exactly who it was. Catherine, oblivious, continued on after a moment of steeling herself. “In other cases, entire families are missing. Their houses are spotless and empty, and if it weren’t for their frantic neighbors, it’d be like no one ever lived there at all. We need to send a detachment of Knights out there now to--”

Jeralt raised a hand, bringing Catherine to silence. “As much as I agree that we’ll need to act on this sooner, rather than later, rushing in blindly is how we lose people. What we _need_ is actionable intelligence.” He looked toward the doorway, and his suspicions were confirmed as Princess Edelgard swept into his office, a stony look on her face. She spoke up, startling Catherine. “I believe I have something that might be of some assistance, then.” She pulled out a letter, its seal broken, and handed it to him.

He eyed her warily, and she spoke again. “This is intelligence collected by agents of the Empire about the situation in Remire and the surrounding villages of Arundel territory. Someone, or something, has been abducting citizens quietly for some time, but in low numbers. The disappearances have ramped up dramatically in recent days, and the Imperial agents investigating this matter appear to have located the facility proper. It’s an underground facility, and while we can’t confirm this without getting down there, it’s like that the facility is being used for human experimentation by enemies of the church. It’s likely that the majority of those taken in recent days are still there as prisoners.” Jeralt let out a long, low breath. This kid was _good_ at giving just enough information to go on without overplaying her hand.

Catherine was incensed. “Human experimentation is a sin against the Goddess, Captain! We have to do something now!” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “As much as I agree that we need to do something, sending the Knights in when a hostage situation is in play is just begging to have whatever sick fucks - sorry, Your Highness - are behind this start killing civilians. We need to approach this carefully… A small team would be best. We’d need to infiltrate this facility and rescue the hostages before I’d even think about committing any portion of our battle forces.” Catherine looked like she wanted to mutiny, but after a moment, she sighed deeply, and let her shoulders drop. “I… you’re right, Captain. I apologize. I can get caught up in the fervor of it all, and… I shouldn't forget that civilian lives are on the line like this.”

Jeralt smiled sadly. “Getting caught up in it is part of being a knight, Catherine. Learning when to ignore that voice, and think things through… That’s part of being a knight-captain. Remember that, and be patient. I’ll put together a team soon.” She nodded, then turned to Edelgard. “I ought to thank you as well, Princess Edelg…” She stopped mid-sentence, looking at Edelgard in confusion. Then, a look of horror overtook her. “Oh, Goddess…” She stumbled backwards, before catching herself. Coughing, she quickly turned toward Jeralt and bowed. “If you’ll excuse me, Captain, I just remembered I have urgent business.” He nodded, confused by this exchange, and Catherine hurried off.

Edelgard looked worried, and moved to shut and Muffle his door. There went any hope of having a quiet rest of the day…

He sighed, and took a long pull from his flask. Edelgard stared at him, and he thought he might be in for a lecture before she too sighed, and asked “You wouldn’t be willing to share, would you?” He stared right back at her, before bursting out in laughter and holding the flask out to her. She took it, sniffing experimentally. He spoke up again, laughter still in his voice. “Well I’ll be damned. By sure knows how to pick ‘em… Go ahead, Princess. Knock yourself out. Though… Maybe take it easy. It’s strong stuff, and you’re--” 

Edelgard knocked back a good-sized shot. She winced ever so slightly, but otherwise gave no comment, handing the flask back to him. He shook his head, smiling. “Well, never mind then. Now… Want to tell me what this is about?” She nodded, leaning up against the back of one of his couches. “Well, _that_ was because I think Catherine just found out my secret.” Jeralt cocked an eyebrow. “And, er… Remind me, which one was that? You’ve got a few of them.” She let out a small huff - was she _pouting?_ \- before crossing her arms. “I suppose, in fairness, I’m not sure I ever actually brought it up to you directly. Part of what I endured at the hands of our enemy was blood reconstruction surgery. I don’t know if you know what it is, but it can be used to forcibly imbue someone with a second crest. It’s similar to what Catherine endured, only it’s quite a bit more deadly, and… invasive.” She shivered before extending a hand shakily. The Crest of Seiros flared to life above it, before dissipating shortly thereafter.

“I was born with this, the minor Crest of Seiros. Believe me, no one is more aware of the irony than I am, what with how much I despise the church and its reliance upon the crest system… But that wasn’t enough. Their work gave me a second crest, the same one as Byleth… The Crest of Flames.” She winced in pain as she manifested the now-familiar design in the air above her hand, before quickly letting it fade. Jeralt sighed. “Ah… I get it. Catherine’s one of those folks who can tell what Crest a person has on intuition, and you’re worried she just realized that you and Byleth have the same one.” Edelgard nodded.

He hummed, thinking. “Well… Put it out of your mind, for now. I know it’s something that you would naturally feel protective about, but you don’t need to worry. Byleth wouldn’t let anything happen to you, I know it.” He chuckled a little as Edelgard’s face went beet red, but the poor thing didn’t say a word to defend herself. After a moment, he cleared his throat. “Now then… Tell me about this facility.”

\---

Byleth sighed as she walked the grounds of Garreg Mach. What should have been an afternoon of rest had turned busy immediately. Edelgard had streaked off to share Thales’ letter with Jeralt, and Byleth, rather than sitting there fretting about what to do, had decided to fill Dorothea in and bring her to speed. If she could help it, her group’s next meeting would be on the 2nd of the Red Wolf Moon, but there was still plenty of time left between now and then. Dorothea had taken it remarkably well, though she could tell that some part of the brunette songstress was withholding judgment until she came to a meeting herself. Byleth could respect her caution, but it did nothing to calm her nerves.

She decided, as she often did, that the best solution for nerves was to train a little. On her way to the training grounds, though, she’d had another idea. This new power of hers seemed to be something that she could use actively, so it made sense to try to practice it while no one was in danger, just like she would practice a sword technique. She couldn’t exactly risk using it in view of anyone, though, so she decided that it would be best to find a quiet, out of the way spot, and find something to practice on there. She settled, somewhat morbidly, on the monastery’s cemetery. She descended the stairs, and mumbled “Hello” to her mother’s headstone. It occurred to her that she didn’t know if it truly was a headstone or a cenotaph, as Rhea had, in other lifetimes, hidden Sitri’s body away in Abyss. She needed to bring that up at some point…

She scanned the area. On the ground near the tree in the corner of the yard, she saw a stick. On a flower by one of the graves nearby was a butterfly. Resting in the tree itself, she spotted a sparrow eyeing her inquisitively. She opted to try the stick first, since it wasn’t alive to feel any pain. She ran her fingers along it - it was still quite springy and green, and not in the least bit brittle. Satisfied that it wouldn’t break against the far wall in case she couldn’t cast the spell in time, Byleth wound back, ready to throw. She reached for the same sensation she had felt during the Battle of the Eagle and Lion, feeling her body come alive with heat as the Crest of Flames manifested above her hand. Ever since her apotheosis, her body was able to handle the Crest of Flames much better than it had used to. In fact, rather than feeling pain from drawing from it, it now almost felt _good_. Pushing that thought from her mind, she focused more intensely.

Confident that she had it ready, she threw the stick towards the wall, at the same time reaching out with her magic. An odd sheen covered the stick, and it flew backwards towards her position. She let the magic fade, and it began flying forwards again. Experimentally, she pulsed the spell a few more times, before at last letting it go. This spell was marvelous! She didn’t feel any fatigue whatsoever, not like when she’d use a Divine Pulse. In fact, she felt _better_ than before, almost like when her Crest of Flames would pulse in a battle and leech energy.

The stick hit the wall and exploded into a thousand little wood shards. The sparrow and butterfly took wing, fleeing the shrapnel, though the butterfly was ultimately too slow. Its wings and abdomen were pierced multiple times, and it fell to the ground, unmoving. 

Byleth stared at the wall for a moment before bending down to examine some of the shards. Rolling them between her fingers, she was surprised to find how stiff and brittle they had become. She shuddered - perhaps the spell, much like her crest’s effects in battle, was also vampiric? That required further testing, so she called on the Divine Pulse. It was a very short hop backwards, only a minute or so of real time. After confirming that the stick had been restored to its original state, she threw it again, this time casting her Reversal spell only once. On impact, it broke in half, though thankfully the carnage from before was nowhere to be seen. 

She sighed wearily as she examined the halves of the stick. They weren’t quite brittle yet, but the wood beneath her fingertips felt weaker than it had before. Furthermore, all it had taken was a single usage of the spell for doom to befall the stick. She stared at the butterfly and the sparrow, then nodded grimly to herself. She had to try on something alive, much as she hated it.

Creating a small fireball on the tip of one finger, she shot it towards the sparrow. The little thing was quite fast, and it flew off, heading away from the madwoman hurling fire at it towards the other side of the gorge. She reached out with the spell, pulling it back to the beginning of the flight. This time, it tried to fly, but only made it to the cemetery walls. Byleth sighed again. Clearly she had stolen energy from the little bird, but at least no untimely doom had found--

A brown blur whizzed by her along the cemetery wall. Struggling to keep up, she managed to make out a hawk soaring down into the gorge, the sparrow clutched tightly in its talons. Byleth sank to the ground, feeling guilty.

It _could_ be a coincidence. The energy siphon was fairly obvious, that was true, but this spell… Was it _cursed_ somehow? Cursed to make anything it touched suffer injury or death? She thought back to the Battle of the Eagle and Lion, how Bernadetta’s arrows had suddenly found their mark when Hilda was under the influence of the spell… Swearing under her breath, she released her Crest of Flames. She could not in good conscience ever use this spell on an ally again. If something worse had befallen Hilda… Byleth wrapped her arms around herself for comfort.

She would not let that happen.

\---

On the night of the 29th of the Wyvern Moon, almost the entirety of Garreg Mach’s student population turned out for a grand feast in the dining hall, underclassmen included. No expense had been spared, and the cooks were working double time to continue to send dish after dish out. Practically the whole of Garreg Mach’s usual menu was represented at one point or another, starting with the light fares of soups and vegetable medleys, then on to meat dishes and other savory foods, before moving on at the end of the night to desserts and sweet dishes.

The students had evidently taken this whole spirit of unity that the feast was organized under very seriously, and had seated themselves all jumbled together. Edelgard, Hubert, and Bernadetta were chatting away to Dimitri, Dedue, and Ingrid. To her surprise, Byleth even saw Ingrid touch Dedue’s forearm when she thought no one was looking, frown slightly, and bend towards his ear. Whatever she said caused him to react: a small smile bloomed on his normally stoic face, and he shook his head. Ingrid soon sported a matching smile, and looked as though a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Bernadetta, meanwhile, spent almost the whole feast fumbling with something Byleth couldn’t see - towards the end of the festivities, she breathlessly tugged on Hubert’s arm, and pressed a small object into his hand. His face twisted up in what Byleth recognized as a superhuman effort on his part not to smile, but eventually he lost his internal battle. He smiled in spite of himself, and soon there was a small, embroidered flower fastened to his jacket. It was white, with five petals and a yellow center. It looked odd on Hubert, but the way Bernadetta smiled at it was more than enough to convince him to leave it.

Byleth sat down next to Edelgard. She inhaled a couple plates of food, pausing only to give her input here and there as Dimitri insisted on giving a blow-by-blow of the battle from his perspective. He was stopped, mercifully, by the arrival of the Golden Deer. Marianne sat down next to him, blushing hard but smiling brighter than Byleth had ever seen her smile - and to her amusement, Dimitri returned the look. Lysithea plopped down next to Linhardt, who immediately stopped looking put upon as Caspar _also_ went over the details of the Battle to anyone who would listen. She smiled sheepishly at him, and he handed her a slice of cake. One bite, and she was in heaven. Hilda, meanwhile, took the offensive on Caspar, silencing him with her own particular brand of patented distraction. Everyone in the room breathed a little easier, but Caspar barely even seemed to notice as he directed all his energy towards Hilda. 

A very sullen Lorenz walked in, following Leonie as she marched up towards Byleth. She slammed a paper down on the dining hall table, narrowly avoiding the sherbet Byleth was sharing with Edelgard. “I’m ready!”, she said. “Let’s make this official!” Byleth smiled at her, but looked back at Lorenz. The poor boy looked crestfallen even as he sat down between Raphael and Ignatz, though he made a valiant effort to carry a conversation nonetheless. She looked back at Leonie, then flicked her eyes back to Lorenz. Hopeful that her message had been received, she asked “Are you sure? Nothing else you think you ought to take care of first?” Leonie smiled and shook her head. “Nope. If anything like what you’re implying were to be going on, I would hope that they’d be man enough to keep trying anyway. Not like I’m dying or anything, just transferring houses.” Lorenz visibly perked up upon hearing that, and Byleth smiled. “Alright. I’ll get this taken care of first thing in the morning. You know where to meet us.”

Petra was egged on by Sylvain and Annette, despite the exasperation of Felix (who was glaring openly at Sylvain) and quiet apologies of Ashe (who was smiling sheepishly at Annette’s insistence), and began a rousing song in Brigidian. Ferdinand, noblest of nobles that he was, surprised everyone in the dining hall by joining in - evidently he had been picking up a little of the language. He was red-faced, and clearly tripping over his words every few lines, but the applause that rang out through the hall as they finished singing together banished his embarrassment. A quick look back at Petra revealed that she was smiling wider than Byleth had ever seen her smile, and surreptitiously wiping away tears. She put a hand on his arm, and said something in Brigidian that made him blush once again before laughing uproariously.

Speaking of Sylvain, as the night wore on, Byleth noticed that everyone around him had begun to grow red-faced and far louder. She cocked an eyebrow at him, and he shrugged exaggeratedly. The red of his own face clashed violently with the red of his hair, and he pressed a finger to his lips, miming to keep quiet. Eventually, Felix had had enough, and dragged Sylvain bodily out of the dining hall, hollering about “setting him straight” and what an idiot he was for “getting me liquored up”. This might have soured the mood had all the Blue Lions not immediately started snickering. Even Dimitri was caught up in the mirth, laughing loud enough to get the whole dining hall to join. Even if they weren’t aware of what was funny, the atmosphere was such that one little outburst of laughter was enough to set the whole room off.

Even the Ashen Wolves made an appearance at this feast - when Byleth asked Yuri about it during a quiet moment, he shrugged, but smiled softly a few moments later as he explained that Rhea had agreed to provide for Abyss too, so he felt he could relax a little. She returned his smile, and he left her to plop down next to Dorothea. The songstress blushed at his approach, but continued regaling some breathless underclassmen about her role in the Battle of the Eagle and Lion. She caught Byleth’s eye, and gave her a wink. Byleth returned it just as Yuri slipped an arm around Dorothea’s waist. She smiled, leaning into his lavender hair ever so slightly.

Hapi and Constance sat down between Raphael and Annette. Hapi and Raphael had hit it off while the Academy students were on their way back from Gronder Field, and were comparing notes on their favorite dishes that had shown up tonight. It turned out that this was very nearly everything, and between the two of them, Caspar, Ingrid, and Byleth, there was true fear on the face of the head chef every time she poked her head back into the dining hall. Soon, Raphael and Ignatz both were regaling her with stories about their lives and families. She seemed especially interested in hearing about Raphael and his sister, laughing until she cried at some of the antics that he’d gotten up to for her sake.

Mercedes seemingly materialized out of nowhere once both Constance and Annette were in the same place, and the three of them started swapping stories about their time at the Royal School of Sorcery in Fhirdiad. Eventually Lorenz joined in, and the four of them were soon laughing together like old friends (which made Byleth smile - Lorenz, as prickly as he could be about nobility, deserved a little happiness like this). Constance, to no one’s great surprise, only had eyes for Mercedes, and the two of them eventually slipped away from the dining hall. They weren’t the only pair to quietly leave the hall, thinking that they were stealthy. 

By the end of the night, only Byleth, Edelgard, Hubert, Bernadetta, Leonie, Marianne, Dimitri, Dedue, Ingrid, and Lorenz remained. To make matters worse, it seemed like everyone was staring at _Byleth_ , waiting for her to leave so they too would have permission to dash off for a few hours before they had to return to facing their responsibilities again. Byleth considered letting them squirm for a while longer, but a wave of exhaustion rolled over her without warning. With a yawn, she announced to the table “Well, I think that about does it for me. Be good, everyone. And thank you, all of you, for making this year one to remember. I hope you cherish it.” She smiled at them, and turned to leave. She stood outside, looking up at the night sky. The stars overhead twinkled beautifully, and she found herself humming Sothis’ song as a small, gloved hand slipped into her own.

She leaned her head to the side, not needing to look to know who it was. Her head rested against Edelgard’s, and she sighed in contentment. “If only we could all stay like this, forever… But, you know, El… _This_ is exactly the kind of thing that I’m fighting for. This night is why I’ve gone back so many times… Why I’ve endured as much as I have. If I could win a future where this… where all of this was preserved?’ She smiled, and turned to look into Edelgard’s eyes. “My life would be complete.” Edelgard said nothing, opting instead to squeeze her hand, and look back up at the stars.

After what felt simultaneously like an eternity and only a few seconds, Edelgard let out a long sigh. “We really ought to turn in for the night. Tomorrow, we go back to reality… And there is much to do.” Byleth nodded. “We’ll get through it, El. I promise. I’ve already got some ideas, too… But let’s get you to bed. You’ve got class in the morning, and I hear your professor’s a real hard-ass.” She grinned, and Edelgard laughed softly. “Perhaps she is. But I find myself quite enjoying her.”

\---

Byleth and Jeralt sat across from each other in the dining hall. Neither spoke for a little while as they put away food in the efficient and somewhat frightening manner that only an Eisner could manage. But eventually, Byleth reached a stopping point in her meal, and looked Jeralt in the eye. He cocked an eyebrow at her, reeling in a piece of stray bacon. After swallowing, he spoke up. “Something on your mind, kid?” She nodded in response, unsure of how to broach the subject. Eventually, she settled on being direct - it rarely failed with her father these days. 

“Why have you never told me anything about House Eisner?” Jeralt froze, looking at her like a cornered animal. He swallowed hard. “Because you never asked?” He raised his hands in surrender before Byleth could growl out a “Don’t you give me that bullshit”, and ran his hand through his hair. “Well… Truthfully, I just don’t like to think about it. You remember that Miklan kid you got sent to kill?” She nodded, and her stomach dropped as she realized where he was going with this. “Well… Let’s just say that when _I_ was a kid, the Kingdom was still just as bad about that shit, maybe worse… House Eisner, believe it or not, was a house of _mages_ , like Dominic or Nuvelle. Actually, we were fairly closely tied to the Nuvelles, from what I remember. See, their house and ours both carried the Crest of Macuil.”

Byleth reeled at this information. For all she knew, Macuil had never passed his blood to any humans - the story about House Nuvelle was a cover to hide the fact that the blood of Noa flowed in their veins. But, while Jeralt might find that interesting, it was unrelated to his story, so she simply nodded for him to proceed. 

“Well, as it happened, I was born first, but didn’t bear a Crest. When my brother Alexander was born bearing not _just_ a Crest of Macuil, but the major variant, I was cast aside.” He shrugged, though Byleth could clearly tell it was an old wound that had merely scabbed over. “He was better for the house anyway, to be fair. Kid was an incredible mage, and me… Well, you’ve seen it. I can barely cast Fire. Hitting things with sharp sticks never seemed to be what our house went for, so… It was for the best. Anyway, after that, I roamed Faerghus as a blade for hire, until the day I met Rhea. There was an ambush, you see, and she… Well, I’ve told you this story, right?” Byleth nodded.

“Good. That mess is a lot to get into, anyway. After that, I joined the Knights, and by the time I heard from my family again, most of them had died off. Some regional instability or other.” He waved a hand noncommittally. “You know how Faerghus is. Anyway, my brother sent word to me that he wanted to welcome me back into the house, to be his heir. Evidently he’d had some trouble in that department, and… Well, they wanted me for insurance. By then, though, I was the captain of the Knights of Seiros. I’m not proud of it, but I told Alexander to leave me alone, that I wanted nothing more to do with our house. A few decades later, I got word that he died, still childless. House Eisner’s old properties got folded into the crownlands, and that was that. House Eisner, as well as the Crest of Macuil, was gone from the Kingdom.”

He smiled, sadly. “You know, King Lambert tried several times to get me to settle down in the Kingdom while we were mercenaries. Even offered me the old lands back. I never could take him up on the offer, though.” Byleth nodded, and reached a hand out to rest on her father’s much larger one. He smiled at her. “I don’t regret it for a second, if that’s what you were thinking. If I’d taken him up on it, imagine how much different our lives would have been. Hell, all of this…” He gestured broadly, trying to communicate some idea - perhaps the scope of Byleth’s mission? “It wouldn’t have happened. So, I’m glad, in the end.” 

Byleth smiled at him, as she rose to head off to class. “I am too. I love you, Dad.” Jeralt smiled wide as could be. “I love you too, By.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Marianne and Gatekeeper won CYL5 so here's a new chapter to celebrate. Oh and I guess some other blue-haired nerds got second or something whatever doesn't sound important
> 
> A cenotaph is a memorial at an empty grave.
> 
> Ships have set sail.
> 
> My headcanon for the flower pin, since I don't think we ever get confirmation of what it looked like, is that it's a white oleander blossom. Many parts of the oleander tree are poisonous if ingested, and the smoke from burning its branches can also cause some damage. It's evidently quite bitter, so most animals tend to stay away from it. And yet, it's a quite lovely-looking flower in its own right. Dangerous, bitter, but pretty. What a perfect summary of Hubert, at least as far as Bernie is concerned in their A support. Image here: https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/334706226849906691/806078350887747584/oleander.jpg
> 
> Oooooooooh my god sweetness overload. The feast scene was so much fun to write.
> 
> I forget where I first got the idea that Macuil had given his Crest to a now-defunct house. It might actually have been from reading one of the in-game books on nobility? Not sure. Anyway, I decided that the Eisners were the bearers of the Crest of Macuil, and that Macuil had only gotten disgusted with humans *after* the war. This does, by the way, mean that if my Byleth ever had any biological children, they could end up bearing the Crest of Macuil if the Crest of Flames didn't overpower it.


	40. The Best-Laid Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth debriefs with the Eagles, Bereth has a talk with Rhea, Byleth has a talk with Catherine, Hubert receives a letter from Felix, and the gang makes plans for how to deal with Thales' accelerated timetable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CN for suicidal ideation. Bereth is depressed again this chapter, but he's the angry kind of depressed, and he does a lot of asking for death. Please use discretion - if you are in the kind of headspace where reading that kind of dialogue would be triggering, feel free to skip his POV. It's the second one in the chapter. A summary will be provided in the bottom note.

Byleth entered the Black Eagles homeroom a few minutes before it was time for class to start. Her discussion with Jeralt had taken longer than she had expected it to, and she thanked her luck that she didn’t have anything to fuss with in terms of lesson plans for today. As the winners of the Battle of the Eagle and Lion, the Black Eagles had the rest of the week off to relax, and Byleth was expected in the audience chamber at noon to receive their prize for them. The chatter died down almost as soon as she walked through the door, and as expected, she found Leonie standing up near the front, chatting away with Caspar, Ferdinand, and Hapi. When she caught sight of Byleth, she snapped to attention. Byleth smiled at her, and walked up to her desk.

“Well, good morning, Black Eagles. As you’ve already noticed, we have a new house member starting today. For those who don’t already know her, or only know her in passing, this is Leonie Pinelli. She was apprenticed to my father for a short time before coming to Garreg Mach, and she’s quite the accomplished cavalier these days. Please help her to feel welcome.” Turning her attention to Leonie specifically, she added “You can sit anywhere you’d like.” The redhead nodded, and ended up taking a seat in the row next to Lysithea and Linhardt. Lysithea greeted her cheerfully, happy to see another former Golden Deer. Linhardt regarded her with a disinterested look, then laid his head down on the desk.

Byleth let the class talk for a little bit longer, until the tolling bells announced that it was time to start. “Okay, everyone! I’ve got good news - after class this morning, you’re all dismissed. We won’t have class again until the 4th of the Red Wolf Moon, and I encourage you all to relax and enjoy yourselves a little. You’ve all worked hard, and to say I’m proud of you would be an understatement. Even those of you who weren’t participants in the Battle of the Eagle and Lion have done incredibly well. That being said… I may call you up for an impromptu mission at any time during the first few weeks of the Red Wolf Moon, so be sure that your gear is in good condition once your break draws to a close.” They all nodded, grunted, or politely answered affirmatively, so Byleth decided to press ahead.

“For this morning, we’re going to have a bit of a debriefing about the Battle of the Eagle and Lion. We’ll touch on what each of you did well, as well as any problem areas that I spotted. When class resumes in the next moon, we’re going to devote some class time to examining any potential future growth you all can do. While you’ve all made advanced certification or something equivalent, there’s still the possibility of master certifications to consider. But like I said, that’s for another day. For now, let’s go over the Battle of the Eagle and Lion.”

She walked around her desk, pulling herself up onto it. She kicked her legs a little as she thought about how to open this debriefing. Soon, an idea came to her, and she smiled to herself. “Well, first of all, I cannot overstate how proud I was of you all. You worked together flawlessly, and followed Edelgard’s orders to the letter. That isn’t surprising after all the combat you’ve seen together, but it’s encouraging to see. The Imperial citizens among you have a bright future under the future Emperor… and perhaps any Alliance expats who’d want such a thing would too.” She smiled at Lysithea and Leonie, then continued speaking. “Furthermore, for your first taste of combat while commanding battalions, you all performed remarkably well. There were a few little kinks here and there that will need to be worked out, but you did quite a bit better than many first-timers I’ve seen.”

“One general point of critique, and then we’re going to move on to individual critiques, going up the roster from the bottom upwards: all of you were entirely too willing to risk your own lives in place of your soldiers’.” An uncomfortable silence settled over the room. Several of the Eagles wore stony expressions, and Dorothea looked as though Byleth had slapped her in the face. Byleth sighed. “I know that isn’t a statement that any of you are thrilled to hear, but you need to understand the reality of combat on a large scale. In a skirmish, individualized tactics like you’re used to work well. You’ve survived so many small-scale battles that way, it can be tempting to try to simply use the same tactics for something like what you experienced in the Battle of the Eagle and Lion.” Byleth felt her face harden. “In war, all that does is get generals killed needlessly. It’s foolish, and selfish. You’re all here at an _officer’s academy_ , whether by choice or not, understanding what you got into or not, and that means that you have to learn how to act as officers.”

She hopped off the desk, and began to pace. It was better for her nerves, that way. “In a war, officers are more valuable than the enlisted simply by virtue of the command structure. Now, hear me: I’m not saying that your soldiers are some disposable asset to be hurled into the fires of war carelessly. That view of troops is barbaric, and it’s how your enlisted rank and files lose confidence in their leadership. At the same time, though, you have to trust that the men under your command are willing to lay everything on the line for your orders. As an officer, it’s _your_ responsibility to ensure you’re giving smart orders to your men, and keeping them out of unnecessary danger. That doesn’t mean that you get out there and fight on the front lines with them, just as much as you don’t carelessly toss away their lives. It’s about balance. Part of why we have mock battles on this scale is to give you a chance to learn that _before_ you’re actually paying for mistakes in lives.”

She sighed. “Think about it like this: what’s the one thing that I always say to you when we go into battle?” Ferdinand raised his hand, and Byleth nodded to him. “‘I will not let a single one of you fall here’, or something to that effect, Professor.” Byleth smiled. “That’s right, Ferdinand. And I mean it, every single time. Our class, on missions like the ones we’ve undertaken, is a miniature version of what I’m talking about. I’m your commanding officer, and you’re the soldiers under my command. You’re instrumental in our making progress, and I’m instrumental in giving you orders and keeping you all on task. It’s my responsibility to you to make sure those orders are good.” She shook her head. “Then again, I’m perhaps a bad example. There’s not much I wouldn’t do to save each and every one of you from death. Like I said… It’s about balance.”

“Alright then. I’ve rambled enough. Let’s get into the individual critiques so we can get the hell out of here. Leonie, you’re up first.” Leonie set her face into a stern expression, awaiting judgment. Byleth hummed for a few seconds, then spoke. “Your instincts are solid, and if your cavalry unit had been facing pretty much anyone besides Hubert, I firmly believe that the charge you, Lorenz, and Marianne were attempting would probably have broken Edelgard’s defensive line simply by virtue of having speed and maneuverability on her heavily armored troops. You should definitely be more aware about the kinds of Dark magic out there - even a mediocre Dark Spikes spell can kill a horse extremely easily. That said, your fundamentals are very good - you’re the picture of a paladin, and I’m not exaggerating when I say that Dad would be proud of you, too.” Leonie beamed at her, and Byleth let the praise hang in the air for a little while before moving on.

She turned next to Petra. The Brigidian princess was sitting rigidly, as though waiting for a judge to hand down a life-altering sentence. Byleth smiled at her, and attempted to speak in soothing tones. “Petra. Your technique is flawless, but you do still lack stamina. More important than any training you do for future certifications, you’ve got to build that up. I can help you make a training regimen to build stamina, but it’s going to be hard work. The results, though, are going to speak for themselves… Ah, but this was about your battle performance, sorry.” She hummed, replaying Petra’s duel with Felix in her mind’s eye. “Though you did end up losing to Felix, I hardly feel like there’s any shame in losing to the… fifth best swordsman walking free at Garreg Mach. The others, if you were curious, and in no particular order, are my father, Lady Rhea, Catherine, and myself.” Petra’s eyes widened as she realized the magnitude of this ranking. “In fact, you managed to hold Felix in place long enough for Dorothea to get over to eliminate him. You’ve already grown so much to be able to do that - I’m proud of you.” Petra smiled softly, and nodded in acknowledgement of Byleth’s praise.

Dorothea was up next. “Dorothea, I actually don’t have any issues to bring up for you. You performed admirably throughout the Battle, kept a cool head, and fought well. Even when you were eliminated, you chose how it happened, and protected Linhardt long enough for him to reach Edelgard. If you hadn’t kept your wits about you, we might well have lost. In fact, I’d like for you to meet me at my quarters later - I picked up a levin sword before the Battle, and I know for certain that it would fit your combat style perfectly.” Dorothea started to protest, likely about the expense of such a gift, but Byleth held a hand up. “Don’t worry about it - as the winning house’s professor, I’m due for a sizable little bonus. It’s already paid for.” Other Eagles began to encourage her to accept the gift, and eventually she nodded, a little red in the face. Byleth smiled.

She turned to Bernie next, who was holding up remarkably well with all the attention in the room now focusing on her. “Well, Bernie, first of all let me say how proud I am of how far you’ve come both as a soldier and as a person. You held up under some of the most intense pressure I can imagine out there, and your aim was great as always. I think I speak for everyone when I say that it’s plain to see that you’re an archer without peer.” Bernadetta turned scarlet, but managed not to scream, or duck under her desk. Byleth watched as Hubert surreptitiously placed a hand on her knee, though whether that made Bernie calmer or not was anyone’s guess. Deciding to wrap this up quickly for her sake, she added “Without your quick thinking and quicker aim in taking Hilda out, we would have been in pretty severe trouble. Well done.”

Byleth moved right along to Caspar, hoping to let Bernie recover a little. She sighed slightly, and Caspar winced. Evidently he was expecting a bit of a dressing down. “Caspar. You and I have had this conversation a few times, but I hope that this got through to you - gauntlets can be incredibly powerful, but they have _shit_ for range.” He nodded, looking a little glum. “That being said, it was quick thinking to take Annette down before she could get dug into a fortified position - if you hadn’t, we likely wouldn’t have been able to set up ourselves, and thus would have been broken by Dimitri’s secondary charge. You have excellent instincts, and no one here doubts your weapon skills. Grappler just has some very hard counters, and on the battlefield that can be deadly.” The blue-haired boy still seemed a little subdued, but he nodded. She smiled slightly, and added “You might be interested to know that I have suggestions, which we’ll cover next week, for how to manage your range issue.”

His face lit up, and he threw a fist into the air. Byleth let out a small chuckle, and moved up her list. Linhardt looked at her expectantly, and Byleth smiled at him in return. “Well, Linhardt… You performed exceptionally well. I actually don’t have any criticism of your performance - you were instrumental in our victory, and your willingness to be in harm’s way for the sake of your friends is admirable, if a bit misguided in terms of what we went over earlier. In a real battle, if you used yourself as a sacrificial piece, I would be _very_ upset. Still, though, it works in a mock battle. What else… Well, while there wasn’t much call for your healing services, you demonstrated a high degree of mastery over both Wind magic and White magic anyway. My ideas for you are a little spicier than they would be as a result. I think you’ll enjoy them.”

He cocked an eyebrow at her, but merely nodded. Linhardt was good at being patient at the oddest of times... She moved on to Ferdinand, who was trying his hardest to appear as if he himself was waiting patiently while being obviously very eager to hear what she had to say to him. She smiled at his enthusiasm. “You and Hubert worked incredibly well together. The way you commanded your cavalry to swarm around Sylvain’s forces and coordinated with them to take him down was remarkable. This goes for both of you - I can imagine that the two of you will become shining gems in the Imperial cabinet alongside Edelgard, some day. As for criticisms… Well, I don’t exactly have one. You survived an axe-wielding Goneril on a wyvern diving straight for you without a scratch. Well done, truly. I can hardly ask you to try to stay on your horse better when _that_ was what unseated you.” He nodded, his chest puffing up a little. The remarks about Hubert hadn’t even seemed to register to him, which amused Byleth to no end as she looked at Hubert himself.

The dark bishop looked as though someone had stabbed him in the stomach. Byleth smiled at his evident discomfort with her “vision of the future” - he knew as well as she did that when she spoke idly about things like that, it was from an actual future that she had lived through. “Hubert. This is going to sound a little familiar. You work very well with Ferdinand under Edelgard’s command. I’d like to see the two of you get along even better in the future. Your magical skills are top notch, of course, and I have to give particular attention to your versatility in first grounding and then subduing Ingrid’s pegasi forces. The only possible critique I have for you is about a weakness of mages in general, rather than just you - because mages are, as a rule, low-mobility, Claude was able to eliminate you fairly quickly. That can be compensated for in a number of ways, but we’ll get to that when we get to that. Overall, I’m very pleased with your performance.”

She turned her attention, at last, to Edelgard.

Byleth smiled softly at her, and she returned the expression. “Edelgard, your work throughout the Battle was exemplary. Your physical skills are superb, but the real focus for me was your tactical considerations. The situation deteriorated from our planning sessions almost immediately, and you did an excellent job of holding everyone together in a changing and chaotic environment. My only real critiques are both related to how you deal with command. Unlike with my general critique earlier, you seemed to be actually holding back from truly entering battle yourself in more than a defensive manner. That’s all well and good, but part of what separates a good battlefield commander from a great one is knowing when to fight yourself, and when to stay back and issue orders without being in the fray. Related to that, you also didn’t utilize your magic very much. In situations where you can’t get up in the enemy’s face, versatile fighters like you and I have to be able to call on longer-range solutions. Thankfully, the solution to all of this is just practice - you have to learn how to read the flow of battle from any angle by fighting a lot. I’m confident that you can do it.”

The bells outside tolled eleven, and Byleth let out a long sigh. “Well… That took a bit. Thank you all for bearing with me on this, especially those of you who sat out of the Battle of the Eagle and Lion. I wanted to do this while the Battle was still fresh in your minds, and give you some food for thought over your small break. You are now officially dismissed until the 4th, though I’m available to answer any questions or allay any concerns that you might have until then. Great work, everyone!”

\---

Bereth stood uncomfortably at Rhea’s left, waiting impatiently. He was generally able to avoid seeing people these days (and, he supposed, in general - his job was a very lonely one at times), but there was no refusing a summons from the Archbishop no matter how little he wanted to be up and about. Some part of him felt nothing but anger at her - she _knew_ he wasn’t Sitri’s son, but she had lied to him for his entire life. All that rot about being special to her because Sitri was special to her… It was enough to make him want to scream at her. He didn’t, of course - while he questioned the value of continuing on when all he knew outside of Cethleann was at best uncertain and at worst was naught but lies, he had no desire to anger someone as powerful as Rhea. A painful death sounded like a hassle, anyway.

A loud, confident knock sounded at the audience chamber doors, pulling him from his thoughts. Rhea called out “You may enter”, and Byleth strode inside. She looked tired, though that _might_ be projection - everyone seemed tired to him these days. When she caught sight of him, her eyes widened, but he pointedly refused to make eye contact with her. Cethleann had been encouraging him to try to talk to Byleth, or to Jeralt, but… He simply could not bring himself to do it. Their lives were fine without him wrecking everything. He could bear the discomfort of lying to them, if it preserved their happiness. Perhaps that was why Rhea lied so often, to so many people.

Rhea smiled, and opened her arms wide as she greeted Byleth. He didn’t pay much attention to what was being said, but from the brief instructions she had given him when he arrived in the audience chamber earlier that morning, he knew that at some point he was supposed to give her a blessed lance Cethleann’s uncle had forged. He also knew that Seteth had something to do as well, so he waited until Seteth moved rather than following the conversation. When he moved, Bereth followed suit, finding the lance and picking it up before returning to Rhea’s side. He drifted back to Rhea’s words just as she turned to him. “Bereth, would you present the Black Eagles’ token of victory?” 

He nodded wordlessly, and shuffled over to Byleth. She looked at him with concern as he handed the lance to her, but he wasn’t going to say a _word_ of what had been on his mind here, if he ever chose to. He returned to Rhea’s side, noticing that she was looking at him oddly. She continued speaking after a moment, saying something about the blessing on the lance, but Bereth couldn’t bring himself to care. He rubbed a hand along his jaw, feeling the solid start to a beard that he was growing. He had found that it was easier to convince himself that he had chosen to grow a beard than it was to try to muster the energy to shave it. Plus, Cethleann had taken his sharp objects away a while ago, which she had called “a precaution”. He didn’t see much point to it - he was the most accomplished magical mind of a generation so it wasn’t as though he _needed_ a blade if he ever chose that route - but it showed him that she cared, and… It was nice, knowing that she cared.

Eventually, Byleth bowed and left, casting one last glance in his direction. Bereth didn’t move. Next to him, Seteth and Rhea exchanged glances, and Seteth swept out of the audience chamber after Byleth. Rhea turned to him and gave him a soft, sad smile. “Dear child… Would you join me in my office? I have something that I wish to talk to you about, and I would be more than willing to hear any concerns you might have for me, as well… Please?”

He shrugged, but followed her into her office anyway. She shut the door behind them, casting his Muffling spell on it before she sat down on one of her couches, inviting him to sit on the one opposite it across the coffee table. He obliged, and the two of them were silent for a moment. She broke the silence after a little while, sighing wearily. “I must thank you, you know. Your talent for spellcraft is beyond compare, and this spell has proven most useful in my affairs.” He nodded, letting her words roll over him before he responded. “It was fairly simple to make. Honestly I think Hubert von Vestra’s adaptation of it is better, but perhaps you simply don’t know that version.” He hadn’t spoken all day thus far, and he found that his throat was quite raspy. She winced ever so slightly at his rough tone, but eventually relaxed a little bit and bowed her head ever so slightly. “Perhaps that is so, but I felt like thanking you, specifically. Now then… Bereth. You are troubled.”

He stared at her, before scoffing slightly. “Whatever gave that away?” Rhea sighed. “Would you like a list, or shall we simply come to an agreement?” He laughed, or at least blew air out from his nose. That was all he’d been able to muster for a while, which probably ought to have concerned him more than it did. Part of his mind knew that all of his behavior ought to be concerning. “Very well. I am. I assume you want to know why.” An edge crept into his voice, and his hand curled around Sitri’s journal. He had rarely let it go in recent days, for whatever reason. Rhea nodded, staying silent for now.

He let out a long, rough sigh. “It’s because everything in my life that I thought I knew turned out to be a lie. You, Lady Rhea, lied to me. I have proof, right here in my hand.” He held up his fist, still curled around the journal. Rhea looked shocked, but he gave her no time to make excuses. “This journal belonged to Sitri Eisner. She wrote about her thoughts and experiences while she was pregnant with her daughter. The last entry, written only a couple days before she died, talks about how she found some… some _thing_ in the Holy Tomb. Found me. I was never hers… I might not even be human, for all I know. And you _knew_ , all this time. You never said a word of it. You _never_ told me the truth. How… Why…” He let out an exasperated huff. 

“I’m an imposter. I’m a liar, who wormed his way into a happy family and stole some of the precious little time they have together. He’s going to die, you know. Jeralt. He always does. Byleth told me, once…” His mind caught up to what he’d just said, and he swore loudly. “And now I’ve gone and ruined all of _that_ for her. I’m sure you’re going to try to force me to explain what I mean, and make me ruin things more. Do me a favor and just kill me. Save me the trouble.”

Rhea stared at him, but instead of growing angry or shouting, she just looked sad. She wouldn’t shout at him? Call him a heretic for daring to insult her? His eyes narrowed in suspicion. If she was playing some kind of angle, it wouldn’t work. He owed Byleth to not say any more, especially after all he had taken from her. He crossed his arms, waiting for Rhea to give first.

Eventually she sighed. “Oh, my dear child… I had no idea that you had fallen into a place like this. Please, let me assure you - I know of Byleth’s… unbound nature. She has spoken to me of travelling across time. You revealed nothing that I did not already know, so please do not trouble yourself about having harmed Byleth in some way today. And… I would never be able to kill you. Not when you are as important to me as you are.”

He cocked his head to the side. “I just told you I know I’m not Sitri’s son. Stop _lying_ to me. You told me once, a long time ago, that I was important to you because my mother was, but I _have_ no mother.” Anger flashed in Rhea’s eyes, though it was gone quickly, replaced by concern. She bowed her head for a moment, before looking at him seriously. “I perhaps did you a disservice, phrasing it like that. You are important to me not only because of Sitri, but because… Well… For many years, I had hoped that _you_ were the incarnation of Sothis. That somehow my efforts had failed where Sitri and Byleth were concerned, that your appearance within the Holy Tomb was a sign. I now hold a somewhat… different theory, but it is one that makes you no less special to me.”

Confusion washed over him. “What do you mean?” Rhea put a hand beneath her chin, humming as she thought. Perhaps she was making all of this up in the moment to trick him? But… No, it seemed too genuine for that. All of his interactions with her before today had felt as though there were some sort of veil up, obscuring the true Rhea from him, but he did not feel that today. At last, she nodded to herself, and began to speak.

“I do not know if such a thing is possible, but… Given Byleth’s journey across time, it seems to me that you were, somehow, a part of her soul that was cast off when she went back in time. I am not certain, but perhaps if she returned to the Holy Tomb in her previous life before winding back the hands of time, then it would make sense that the shard of her that was cast off, you, should find its way to the Holy Tomb.” She paused, looking contemplative. “I have an educated guess as to what could have caused part of her to break away, but I am missing too many variables to be certain.”

He sat in silence for a moment, processing this information. It was _absurd_ , but… The concept of time travel itself was absurd. Byleth being able to leave a timeline completely and return to the past, starting a new timeline… Absurd. Being fused with the Progenitor Goddess? Absurd. He sighed. “So… What? I’m… soul detritus? How does something like _that_ become a child?”

Rhea, infuriatingly, shrugged. “The only one who could answer that question with any degree of certainty is gone. Sothis created life out of little more than droplets of her blood, so if any would have been able to speak to the truth of it, it would have been her… That being said, the methods that _I_ used to create Sitri, and all those who came before her… They are not dissimilar to what I suggest. I simply do not know the mechanism behind such creation, and so cannot say for certain. However, I believe we are missing the point of all of this. Forgive me.”

He cocked an eyebrow at her. “The point? I thought you were trying to convince me that I was a former piece of Byleth? What other point did you have?” Rhea smiled sadly at him. “Despite what you _might be_ , the fact remains that Sitri chose to raise you. I offered to take you from her, to raise you as _my_ son… But she insisted. She wanted to raise you as her own, to nurse you alongside Byleth. To treat the two of you as if you had shared her womb… She never intended for you to feel as though you were an imposter, or an interloper.”

She stood and quickly walked around the coffee table to sit next to him. He tried to look away from her, but something in her eyes was so _captivating_ … “I wronged you by not telling you the truth of your origins earlier. To learn it during such a traumatic time… I understand why you have fallen into despair. But please, Bereth… There is hope for you. No matter what you truly are, soul shard or otherwise, Sitri chose you. I choose you. Byleth chose you, too. Or have you forgotten that the two of you decided to treat one another as siblings, just as Sitri decided to treat you as her son?” She smiled at him, and he almost felt like returning it.

“Please, dear child. Do not give into despair. This world would be a cruel, cold place without you. In my heart, you are as much my grandson as Byleth is my granddaughter, and I would love nothing more than to come to know you better as you grow into yourself.” She paused, barely daring to breathe. “May I embrace you, as family?” To Bereth’s surprise, he found himself nodding, and soon he was wrapped in warmth. He let his eyes close, and let out a shaky breath.

Family. Perhaps… Perhaps, even if he didn’t deserve to steal Jeralt from Byleth, he could still have family in Rhea. Or… or whatever Cethleann was to him. Maybe, just _maybe_ , Byleth would understand, and might want him to be in her life, too. Weakly, he raised his arms, returning Rhea’s embrace.

\---

Byleth stood impatiently outside the audience chamber doors. Seteth had tried to persuade her to let Flayn handle Bereth, but after seeing him like she had today, there was no way she could do that. She tapped her foot as she waited, gradually retreating into her mind until a small voice at her side jolted her back to reality. “Um, Professor? Is this a bad time?” She blinked, and looked down to find Ignatz Victor standing a respectful distance away from her, looking as sheepish as ever. Why was he… Oh! Realization washed over her, and she forced a polite smile. “Not at all, Ignatz. What do you need?” He returned her smile with a genuine and sweet one, and began fumbling around in his bag for something. “I’ve finished those sketches that you wanted me to mock up. I have to thank you again for somehow getting me access to study the real ones up close - it was instrumental in reimagining them, and they’re beautiful historical pieces in their own right.”

He presented three sheets of paper, each covered in detailed sketches. She looked them over quickly, marveling at the eye for detail and aesthetic sense that Ignatz possessed. Immensely satisfied, she folded them carefully and tucked them away, before reaching for her coin purse. She counted out their agreed-upon sum for him, and pressed the gold into Ignatz’ hands. “It’s beautiful work, Ignatz. Well worth the price. Thank you again.” He bowed sheepishly, and was about to respond when a sharp voice barked out “ ** _Eisner!_** ” Poor Ignatz jumped about a foot in the air; Byleth merely sighed. Her eyes locked onto Catherine’s as the white-haired knight stomped towards her. “I’ll talk to you later, Ignatz. This may take a while.” The green-haired boy nodded, bowed again, and scurried away, leaving the two women to stare at one another.

Byleth leaned against the wall and folded her arms. “Is there any way this can wait? I’m waiting on Dean Bereth. It’s important.” Catherine’s eyes were wide, and Byleth realized that she actually looked a little frightened. Still… She needed to be here for Bereth, so she tried to harden herself so that whatever Catherine was afraid of wouldn’t break her. She realized immediately that this was a doomed enterprise once Catherine spoke again. “Is it more important than _your house leader_ having two crests? One of which is the Crest of--”

Byleth clamped her hands over Catherine’s mouth. Hissing in exasperation, Byleth leaned in closer to her. “Goddess, woman! Do you want _everyone_ to hear you?” She let out a tired sigh. “Fine. You’re not going to let this rest… Come with me.” Before Catherine had a chance to respond, Byleth hauled her into Jeralt’s open office, hand still firmly over her mouth. Not stopping to consider how this looked to her very bewildered father, she shut the door with her foot, only releasing Catherine (who puffed up and sputtered indignantly) to cast Muffling. Satisfied, she sank onto one of Jeralt’s couches, and motioned for Catherine to do the same. Still looking a bit put-out, Catherine obliged her.

“So. You realized that she has the Crest of Flames too, then?” Catherine’s eyes widened again, and she choked out “You _knew_?!” Byleth sighed, willing herself to be patient. “It’s hard not to. I… ugh. Alright. How much has Rhea told you about my situation?”

“ _Lady_ Rh--”

“For the love of the fucking goddess, Charon, just _answer_ me! You’re wasting time that I could be using for…” She deflated, letting her anger flow out of her as guilt rushed in to take its place. “I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that. I’m stressed, and worried about Bereth, and… In fairness, you picked a really bad time for this.” Catherine looked a little cowed by Byleth’s outburst; Jeralt chuckled from his seat, before standing up. “Hey, By. You want me to keep watch for Be for you? I can give him the time if I see him.” Her chest felt tight at the thought of missing him when he was obviously in such a bad state, but… If anyone else could be trusted to handle him, it _had_ to be Jeralt, right?

“I… I guess that’s fine. But… would you tell him that I love him and I’d be willing to dye my hair if it bothers him that much?” Jeralt scrunched his face up, but nodded. “Fine, fine… Just don’t expect it to be flowery.” He strode over to the door, letting himself out of his office quietly. Catherine stared at Byleth, mouth slightly agape. Byleth stared back, confused, until realization hit her and she started to laugh. “Oh! Oh, no, you must think… I didn’t mean it like that. Bereth is my brother, and I’ve been worried about him. He seemed to take my recent changes really hard. I saw him in the audience chamber earlier today, and I wanted to try to catch him on the way out. That’s why I was there when you found me.”

Catherine sighed, at once looking a bit remorseful and also a bit relieved. “Ah. Well, that explains a lot, actually. I apologize for my timing, too - now that I know, I feel like a bit of an ass.” Byleth smiled, in spite of herself. “Well, only a bit. Now then… My question?”

Catherine hummed as she ran back through their conversation, then sat in silence while she thought. “Well… I know that you’ve been blessed by the goddess. I mean, that much is obvious just from looking at you, but Lady Rhea confirmed it to Alois, Gilbert, Shamir, and I in a briefing a few weeks ago.” Byleth nodded - that would make sense, as they were four of the five highest-ranking Knights of Seiros, after her father. Curiosity bubbled up in her. “Speaking of which, where _are_ Alois and Shamir? I haven’t had to endure his awful jokes about this yet.” Catherine looked upwards, thinking, then said “I think they’re still out on assignment in Alliance territory. The Eastern Church has been having a lot of trouble with pirates lately, and they don’t have their own standing army out there.” She sighed - she obviously missed Shamir.

Byleth leaned back in place. “I see. Well… I’m sure Shamir’s keeping him out of trouble. In any event, we’ve lost the thread a little. Did you hear anything else about me?” Catherine shook her head. “I see… In that case, please keep what you’re about to hear to yourself. I suppose you can tell Shamir when she comes back, too, but, y’know… I don’t want this getting to the general public.” Catherine swore herself to silence, and Byleth braced herself.

“The truth is, I was something of a… Well, the short version is that I could speak to the goddess before my, er, blessing. The Crest of Flames was a quirk of my birth, and that’s how I could communicate with her. I knew Edelgard had one as well because the goddess could tell. As _you’re_ well aware, the human body isn’t built to handle two crests coexisting. She was… well, do you remember our conversation about Lysithea from before the battle at the cathedral?” Catherine nodded, then her mouth fell open in shock. Collecting herself, she stammered out “N… No! You can’t be serious! Someone _else_ had that done to them, and it was the heir to the damn _Empire_?! What the hell is going _on_ in this world?”

Byleth sighed, and muttered “You don’t know the half of it.” She returned to normal volume, and continued on. “Edelgard’s hair used to be chestnut brown, according to Dimitri. Now, her hair’s like yours and Lysithea’s. I think it probably stunted her growth a bit, too. The Hrsevelgs, from what I understand, tend toward the taller side of things.” 

Catherine put her head in her hands, and let out a long, weary breath. “Professor… Does she suffer from it?” Byleth paused, choosing her words carefully. “Not unless she has to actively draw from the Crest of Flames’ power. Before my blessing, I found it painful and difficult to sustain, but Edelgard can barely hold onto it for more than a few moments at a time. I don’t know about her lifespan, but I know that she would do anything to be rid of it. So for her sake and Lysithea’s… Please keep working with Professor Hanneman.”

Catherine nodded grimly. “I understand. And I will… I just… Does Lady Rhea know?” Byleth’s blood froze in her veins, and she pulled time to a stop to allow her a moment to collect herself. Resuming time, she lied. “Of course. Nothing happens in Garreg Mach without her knowledge, as you well know.” Catherine visibly untensed, and relaxed back against the couch. “Ah. Good. I was _not_ looking forward to making that report, let me tell you…”

Byleth stood. She needed to get out of this situation. Thankfully, Catherine stood after her, running a hand through her hair. “Well, I guess I better get back to it. But hey, come spar with me sometime, Professor. I’ve got to keep my skills sharp - you’re the best opponent I can find, and _you_ don’t treat me like I’m going to keel over and die if I get hit wrong.” Byleth smiled, feeling guiltier by the second. “Of course, Catherine. I’d be happy to sometime over the next few days. I’ll, er… See you around.” Catherine left the office, and Byleth sank back against the wall.

\---

Hubert grimaced. Lady Edelgard kept herself to a rigorous training schedule, even when they were otherwise unoccupied. To the uninitiated, she seemed to be a force of nature, never tiring, always capable of feats of strength that would elude most around their age range. But he knew better; not a moment went by when some part of his mind did not curse Thales and his wretched kin for what they had done to her. He glowered as he watched her, her steps and cuts practically a dance. He sensed a presence coming up on his left, and shifted his body to keep an eye out for the newcomer while also having a line of sight to Lady Edelgard. She was likely safe enough here, but it would not do for him to relax his vigilance for even a moment.

Soon, the presence revealed itself as Felix Fraldarius. He narrowed his eyes in suspicion - the Blue Lions’ resident swordmaster had taken an unhealthy interest in watching his classmates train over their short break, but he had paid special attention to Lady Edelgard and Dorothea. While he had no obligation to protect Dorothea in any way, he had found himself somewhat attached to her, and to most of the Black Eagles, if he were to be honest. Felix’s newfound interest was suspicious, and suspicious things bothered Hubert. 

He turned a glowering eye on the raven-haired swordsman, who returned his gaze with a glare of his own. Hubert resisted the urge to smile - the northmen were, by stereotype, far more similar to his personality than the mewling noble scions that made up the underclassmen population and numbered among his peers, but Felix had always been even more closely hewn to him than even that tired stereotype. Taciturn, unyielding, and uncompromising… Hubert might have even admitted he felt a small level of admiration for the man, had his recent behavior not soured his outlook.

Felix spoke first, breaking the silence between them. “You there. Edelgard’s shadow. I have something for her from the boar. She seems busy, so I decided you could deliver it for me.” Hubert’s full attention was now on Felix. In his hand, he had a letter. The seal was broken, but obviously bore the Fraldarius crest. That meant that his father, Duke Fraldarius, had sent a letter so soon after the Battle of the Eagle and Lion to “the boar”… ah, yes. His quaint nickname for Prince Dimitri was “the boar”, that was right. Hubert dipped his head slightly, acknowledging Felix’s gesture, and accepted the letter. He opened it without a second thought, earning a raised eyebrow from the swordsman. 

His scowl deepened as he read further. By the end, he could feel magic threatening to gather at the tips of his fingers. He fixed Felix with another glare. “Are you aware of the contents of this letter?” Felix scoffed. “Of course. The boar told his cur, as well as myself, Ingrid, and Sylvain, since Edelgard trusts us.” His cur? That nickname was lost on Hubert, but process of elimination suggested… Dedue? An odd way to speak of Dimitri’s bodyguard, but then Felix had an odd way with words.

“How serious is this, in your estimation?” Felix raised an eyebrow at him again. “Why the hell are you asking me? Shouldn’t you be handing it off, right about now?” Hubert sighed. “You are brash, and lack proper respect for Her Highness, but I bear a grudging respect for you. Do not ask me to explain it. It would be tedious. Now, do answer my question.” Felix regarded him carefully for a moment, then shrugged. “Kleiman isn’t one to make overtures unless he’s certain he can get what he wants. I’ve always had suspicions about his involvement with the Tragedy of Duscur, personally. The others are all opportunists. Scum. If they thought they had a chance of getting their way, they’d jump on this. It would be foolish not to take it seriously.”

Hubert nodded, digesting this information. “I see. My thanks for delivering this to me, and for your insight.” He gave a curt bow before Felix nodded in response. As Felix left the training grounds, Hubert collected himself. Felix Fraldarius was an interesting one, that much was certain…

\---

The 2nd of Red Wolf Moon arrived, and found Byleth waiting nervously in Jeralt’s office. It was still quite early for their meeting, and she could tell that her pacing was getting on Jeralt’s nerves. She eventually forced herself to sit down, only to immediately shoot back up as a knock rang out on the door. She hoped it was Bereth coming early to talk to the two of them, but visibly deflated when it only proved to be Dimitri and Dedue. Dimitri greeted her politely, settling onto the couch she vacated. He had a troubled look on his face, but Byleth didn’t have time to consider it for long before another knock at the door drew her attention. Other members of their group arrived at a fairly steady pace - Yuri came next, followed by Balthus and Hilda, Macuil and Indech, and Seteth and Flayn. Edelgard and Hubert arrived about ten minutes before they were due to start with Dorothea in tow. She settled into the open spot next to Dimitri, and was doing an admirable job at hiding how out of place she must have felt in the room. Byleth was almost ready to dejectedly start their meeting when one more knock caught her attention.

She practically sprinted to the door - pulling it open revealed Bereth, who looked uncomfortable and exhausted. She wanted nothing more than to throw her arms around him and never let go, but something in her gut told her to stay away from that kind of behavior for now. Instead, she just smiled at him and stood aside to let him enter. To her delight, he took up his old spot against the wall with her. If Claude had been here too, everything would have felt _right_ for the first time since Sothis disappeared. A pang of sadness pierced her heart, but she shook it off - Sothis would have told her to be strong, and she could do that at the very least. There was no time for moping right now, anyway.

Jeralt smiled at her, and she returned it. She briefly reached out and gave Bereth’s hand a squeeze - he flinched, but did not otherwise move, much less reciprocate the gesture. She cleared her throat, unwilling to dwell on it for now lest she start overthinking everything he did.

“Well, everyone, welcome back. We’ve got another new member joining us today, and for a few of us, this will be your first time in a meeting with Bereth, as well. For anyone who isn’t aware, he is the Dean of Academic Affairs for the Officer’s Academy, and the creator of the Muffling spell we all use. He’s also my brother.” She smiled, but didn’t dare steal a glance at him. She had a job to do right now. Nodding to Dorothea, she continued on. “This is Dorothea Arnault. She’s another one of my Black Eagles, and happened to suss out that Edelgard was up to more than she was letting on. She’s smart as a whip, and I figured this group could use her perspective. Please make her feel welcome. Dorothea, I’ll get you a copy of Muffling after the meeting.” Dorothea nodded, though Byleth noticed her eyes flicked over to Yuri. Sensing potential tension, she added. “Also, I need to go ahead and swear you to secrecy. Every group member we have takes an oath like this.” The brunette songstress nodded again, slightly more hesitant this time.

With that taken care of (and a potential crisis averted), Byleth pivoted to her first agenda item. “I’ve made significant progress on interrogating our captive Agarthan. While he’s yet to give me anything actionable, he was at least able to de-confirm the situation that you brought up to me, Hilda. For everyone else - he told me, under conditions that ensured his truthfulness, that there are no further infiltrators at Garreg Mach. There were also no plans for new ones when he was captured, though he did not rule out the possibility of one being sent as retaliation for Solon’s failure.” Turning to Dorothea, she quickly added “Solon was one of our enemies who was masquerading as the librarian, Tomas. I can answer any questions you have about other things like this afterwards, if you think of any.” She nodded, looking a bit overwhelmed, and Byleth smiled in an attempt to reassure her.

“I am pleased to announce that I have secured the cooperation of Jeritza. Seteth, I would like your help soon in convincing Rhea to release him into my custody. We can use him for clandestine operations, but we’ll have to come up with a good hunting grounds for the Death Knight.” Seteth paled, but nodded. Evidently he wasn’t concerned by the need for “hunting grounds”, which came as a slight surprise to her. Dimitri winced, likely recalling his last meeting with the Death Knight in the Holy Mausoleum. She would resolve that situation later.

She shifted in place, ready to move on. “Now then… I’m going to open this up. If any of you have anything pressing to bring to the group’s attention, speak.” Off to her right, Jeralt grunted as he stood up from his desk. He addressed the group in a serious tone. “Thanks to information from Edelgard, we’ve been made aware of an underground facility somewhere under Remire village, out in Arundel territory. It makes sense, since it’s within Thales’ domain as Lord Arundel, but it’s still a situation that we’re eventually going to need to deploy the Knights for. I’ve waited until this meeting to pass this information along to Rhea, in case she orders immediate action.”

Byleth nodded. “A small strike force is the only way to go about this. I learned from Catherine a couple days ago that Alois and Shamir are still away on their own mission - she’s normally the one I would lean on for something like this. In her absence, I propose that I lead my class, plus any “volunteers” who happen to show up at the stables at the time. Dimitri, I could use your help… And Balthus, if you could try to get Claude to actually show up, we could use his bow out there.” Both men nodded, though Balthus looked slightly troubled. “I’ll give it my best shot, but I can’t guarantee it. He’s real busy.” Byleth stared at him, and he looked down and away after a few moments. She sighed.

“Alright, that takes care of that. Go ahead and report to Rhea, and tell her that I heard about the mission and am adamant about going since Shamir can’t. That’ll get our foot in the door for it.” He nodded, and sat back down. Edelgard cleared her throat, and stood up. Byleth smiled at her, and motioned for her to speak.

“I’m afraid I have dire news. My usefulness as a double agent is coming to an end much faster than we had originally expected it to. While at the Battle of the Eagle and Lion, Thales informed me of his intention to attack Garreg Mach at the beginning of the Guardian Moon, unless I launch the war myself before then.” Gasps and quiet cursing were heard from all around the room. “Furthermore, if it does come to that, he informed me that he will be using the Imperial army as fodder for his plans… Which likely means he aims to have me replaced, and take the crown early, while my father still lives.”

Byleth hummed. “You know, El… That might not be a bad idea. If you were to journey to Enbarr and take the throne during the Ethereal Moon, you could set your plans in motion to secure the loyalty of the Imperial cabinet, and cut off Thales’ plans at the root.” Seteth spoke up, shaking his head. “How does that spare the Church from an unprovoked attack by the Empire?” Edelgard looked Seteth in the eye, her face stern. “It does not, unless we make it _look_ like I am preparing for such an attack for long enough to crush Thales.”

Byleth smiled at Edelgard. “You read my mind. To that end… I have a proposition for _you_ , Dimitri.” The blond prince startled at hearing his name, and looked up at her in confusion. “You come of age just before the annual ball, right? I propose that you and Edelgard _both_ ascend to your respective thrones in the Ethereal Moon. She’ll go first, and orchestrate her soft coup to restore power to the throne in the Empire. Then, we can get you installed as the King of Faerghus immediately on your eighteenth birthday. The two of you, as brother and sister, can form an official accord between the Empire and the Kingdom, and Edelgard can use that as an excuse to stall Thales with promises of a grand, unified army to march on Garreg Mach. Because Thales no longer has eyes in the top levels of the Kingdom government, we’ll make it seem as though you’re all in for Edelgard’s goals, and he’ll be none the wiser for a little while. And then, we strike. With the combined might of the Kingdom and the Empire, we can wipe out Shambhala and be rid of them once and for all.”

The room was deathly silent for a few moments - the sheer audacity of Byleth’s plan had rendered everyone speechless. Eventually, Seteth found his voice. “While this plan _might_ , if it worked as you suggest to the letter, allow us to strike at the Agarthans... There are a great many flaws with it. For example - how do you imagine you will get the Kingdom army to wherever Shambhala is located? They shall have to cross through either the Empire or the Alliance, and either path will cause an unavoidable ripple of gossip and protest among the nobility. In particular, if they cross through the Empire, their path will take them directly through Arundel territory. Thales would know of our plans instantly in that case.”

Byleth nodded. “That’s simple enough. They’ll march through Garreg Mach.”

Seteth blinked at her several times in disbelief. “I… I beg your pardon? It sounded as though you suggested that _the Kingdom army would march through Garreg Mach_ , but that is of course absurd.” Byleth smiled at him. “Nope, you heard right.” Seteth pinched the bridge of his nose, and let out an exasperated sigh. “And _how_ exactly do you plan to accomplish that?” Byleth crossed her arms, feeling a little uncomfortable at revealing the final step of her plan. “Well, I’ll have to come clean to Rhea about this group. Once Rhea knows that it’s to fight the Agarthans, I have no doubt that she’ll happily allow the Kingdom safe passage through Garreg Mach. We might have a little trouble sneaking through Gloucester territory, but we can take advantage of the infighting within the Alliance. All we would need to do is disguise the Kingdom troops with sufficiently powerful illusion magic. Fortunately, we happen to have a couple very accomplished illusion mages right here among us.” 

She smiled at Hubert, before turning to Bereth. He had been silent for the whole of the meeting, and at her smile, he finally spoke up. “Byleth… This sounds insane. You realize that this sounds completely insane, don’t you?”

Byleth stared at him. “I… What do you mean?” Bereth looked extremely tired, and let out a quiet sigh. “The Kingdom army on the move like that is far too large to _disguise_ , first of all. Second of all, it’s _an army_. Armies need to eat, need to sleep. What will they do for supplies? Even marching triple time will leave them in Gloucester territory for at least a day on the way down, and travelling back through Empire territory, if we assume that the strike at Shambhala works, would still force them to find supplies in territories throughout the Empire. It’s a logistical nightmare, not to mention _every other kind_.”

Edelgard spoke up next, trying to come to her defense. “It would be possible to discreetly move small numbers of Kingdom troops in disguise across the border with the Empire. Though it does still run into the supply problem, the Empire would be willing to compensate them and give them access to our territories’ supply chains.”

To everyone’s surprise, Dorothea laughed aloud. “Goodness, Edie. I don’t think you realize what you’re saying.” Hubert glared at her, but Dorothea pointedly ignored him. “Do you have _any_ idea what kind of crowd soldiers are? No offense to your homeland in particular, Dimitri, but soldiers are little more than thugs. Get enough of them together in one place, and they’re bound to make life hell for the commoners there. The women especially. People put up with it even though they shouldn’t if it’s _their_ soldiers, but if word ever got out that it was Kingdom soldiers in the Empire who did that kind of thing? You’d lose the goodwill of the people in an instant. And I don’t think your dream can survive that.”

Macuil spoke up, which was quite the rarity in these meetings. “I believe we have overcomplicated this. If we make it _seem_ as though the Kingdom army is preparing to move, we can still utilize your idea of tricking Thales. Imperial troops would first mass near the Great Bridge of Myrddin. Thales would assume that they were preparing for a pincer attack on Garreg Mach with the Kingdom army, while in reality the Empire’s forces would be at most a few days' ride from Shambhala. Meanwhile, Rhea can mobilize the Knights of Seiros… Perhaps for a training exercise with the Eastern Church? They can mass in Ordelia territory, and from there cross over the Airmid River and join the Imperial army to assault Shambhala.”

Byleth hummed, thinking it over. “Well… That would actually work better than my idea, I admit.” Macuil allowed a rare smile to show on his face. “Well… I _was_ a tactician of some renown.” When no one raised any objections to Macuil’s plan, she put it to a vote. It passed unanimously, to no one’s great surprise. Edelgard sat down in a bit of a daze, likely wrestling with the knowledge that she would be becoming the Emperor of Adrestia within two months’ time.

After the vote, Dimitri rose from his seat. “There is, unfortunately, a complication to the first part of this plan. My early coronation is likely to be… opposed, shall we say.” He sighed, and massaged his temples. “Duke Fraldarius sent me a letter with his fastest messenger not two days ago now. In it, he detailed a plot. Evidently some of the western lords of the Kingdom, spurred on by Viscount Kleiman, have banded together, and intend to challenge my succession.” Edelgard huffed, and produced the letter Dimitri was referencing. “What he means to say is that there is a plot on his life. The next time he enters Faerghus may be his last.”

Byleth narrowed her eyes. “I see. Kleiman… Kleiman… That’s the bastard who benefitted most from the Tragedy of Duscur within the Kingdom, if memory serves. Cornelia had him installed as a loyalist over what once was Duscur. I’ve wanted to kill him for ages.” The atmosphere in the room grew awkward as everyone attempted to ignore Byleth’s declaration. To move things along, Jeralt spoke up. “An assassination plot’s not a problem. We can send an honor guard along with you for the coronation. If anyone tries anything, we’ll stop them.” Dimitri sighed. “While I appreciate your saying so, this is more than a simple assassination plot. These lords might rise in open rebellion if they are able to convince Count Rowe to join them. With Arianrhod in their possession, a rebellious faction could hold out for quite some time.” Yuri made a face like he’d smelled something unpleasant. “Rowe’s a chicken-shit. All he needs are the right threats to lean one way or the other. I say we provide those for him. I’d be willing to do it.”

Dimitri started to protest, but stopped when Edelgard put a hand on his arm. “If I might say something… House Rowe’s territory borders the Empire. When I take the throne, I will send the Count a message to 'pass along' - that I look forward to strengthening Adrestia’s relationship to Faerghus once my dearest step-brother takes its throne. He would be _mad_ to ignore that, Silver Maiden or not.” Yuri cracked a smile. “I knew I liked you, Princess. You play dirty.” Edelgard returned his smile. “Perhaps. I simply play to win.”

Satisfied, Dimitri sat back down. Byleth looked around the room, waiting to see if anyone else had something to add. When no one came forward, she spoke up again. “Alright. The last item on our agenda is actually something that I first brought up to Rhea. Once our war with Those Who Slither in the Dark is over, it is my intention to gather the Heroes’ Relics and lay them to rest in the Holy Tomb.” When most of the members of the group looked confused, Byleth sighed, and gave a brief explanation of what the Heroes’ Relics actually were. By the end, the Four Saints looked despondent, Hilda looked as though she was going to be sick, and Yuri and Balthus both wore matching expressions of guilt. Dimitri looked deeply concerned.

After a moment more of silence, Byleth prompted the four Relic-wielders in the room for thoughts. Hilda spoke first, shuddering. “If you help me get ahold of Freikugel, you can _have_ it. That’s honestly so _disgusting_ \- I can’t believe we’ve been using _bones_ for hundreds of years!” Byleth nodded. Her request would be easy enough, as Holst usually sent for Hilda to test her might against the Almyrans around this time of year. Yuri immediately reached into a pouch on his hip, and handed Byleth a glowing mass of rings and chains. “Here. The Fetters of Dromi. I don’t give a damn how powerful they are, if that’s what they really are, I want nothing to do with them.”

Byleth smiled at him. “Thank you, Yuri.” As the Fetters rested in her hand, she whispered “ _Aubin_ ”. She felt sadness that was not her own flow into her, and quickly stowed the glowing Relic in a satchel. She shuddered, and felt the eyes of the Four Saints on her. She forced herself to look past them to Balthus. He shifted uncomfortably. “I couldn’t exactly bring Vajra-Mushti with me, but… They’re yours after the war, pal. I don’t even want to hang onto them _that_ long, but something tells me we’re gonna need ‘em. And I’ll tell the bossman you want Failnaught, too. I’m sure he’ll understand… Probably.” Rather than focus on that worryingly noncommittal answer, Byleth shifted her focus onto Dimitri. He sighed.

“If that is the truth of the Heroes’ Relics, then I will do all within my power to collect the Relics of the Kingdom and surrender them to you. You have my word.” Byleth sighed in relief - three commitments and one Relic was better than she had dared to hope for. She smiled. “Well, that’s excellent. I think we can end our meeting here, unless anyone has anything else to add? We don’t need to vote about bringing Rhea in on this, after all, so that’s cut our agenda down… Nothing?” She looked around, but saw no one aiming to speak up. “Alright. In that case, our meeting is adjourned. Ethur, if you would stay behind, I have something to ask of you.”

Macuil eyed her suspiciously, but did as requested. Everyone but Jeralt filed out - she was sad to see Bereth go, but his presence at the meeting had been a balm to her worried mind as it was. She would give him a little space - as she was now, she would likely suffocate him with attention if she went after him. She stretched her tired limbs, then spoke once more. “I hate to pile more work on you, but if you would be willing to craft replacements for the Heroes’ Relics, that would be a huge help in securing the rest of them from the clutches of the noble families that hoard them.” He nodded, a glint in his eyes. “If it allows you to bring them rest, I would work day and night.” Byleth nodded, then pulled out the sketches from Ignatz. She passed them to Macuil, who began to look them over with an appraising eye. “In that case, I have a rather special request for Areadbhar and Failnaught’s replacements. I also want this third one, to maintain balance.” He hummed. “They are perhaps somewhat uninspired as far as names go, but I can do this so long as you retrieve the originals from the vaults.” She smiled. “Consider it done.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Byleth commissioned Ignatz to draw for money - pay your fucking artists, folks.
> 
> The Hubert POV is only there because I adore the idea of Hubert and Felix having a brood-off with each other. I could actually see them becoming friends if they got past the... everything. They've got quite similar personalities underneath it all.
> 
> There's a fairly popular theory that Yuri got his crest from Aubin himself, but that's literally not possible if the Fetters of Dromi are a legitimate Hero's Relic that have been out of Fodlan for centuries. Sorry if you really like that, but it ain't canon here. Blame Intsys for inserting a mysterious healer of indeterminate age into Yuri's backstory *and* giving him a Relic. Either his Relic's Crest Stone is artificial (which begs the question of why the Agarthans can tailor-make one for the Crest of Aubin and not the Crest of Seiros), or the old man who healed Yuri wasn't Aubin.
> 
> \---
> 
> Summary of Bereth's POV section:  
> Bereth is summoned to Rhea's audience chamber to help pass out rewards to Byleth. He gives her a blessed lance, and stays in the audience chamber to talk to Rhea afterwards. He explodes on her, telling her that he knows that Sitri found him, and talks about how he feels like he is an imposter stealing Jeralt's limited remaining time from Byleth. He inadvertently reveals that he knows Byleth is a time traveler, and begs Rhea to kill him rather than try to make him say more. She tells him that she was already well aware of Byleth's true nature, and tries to calm him down.
> 
> Rhea briefly muses on how Bereth came to be, suggesting that he was formed from a cast-off shard of Byleth's soul by some sort of accident in her time travel, but then explains that it doesn't matter to her what he actually is. She loves him because Sitri willingly chose to raise him, and to her, he's her grandson just as much as Byleth is her granddaughter. The two embrace, and Bereth decides that he can allow himself to have a family in her, at the very least. There's also a slight acknowledgement on his part that what he feels about Flayn is more complicated than he knows how to put into words.


	41. Megaton

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth has some late-night conversations, the students ready for the journey to Remire, Dimitri evacuates refugees, Edelgard wages war, and Claude reflects on days gone by.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CN for gore. This is a battle chapter, but there's also some gruesome shit involved, mainly involving brutality and mutilation. Most of it is contained to Edelgard's POV section, though some is in the section that follows it. It isn't canon-atypical violence, but it's very close to being over the top for on-screen violence.

Byleth stole across the monastery grounds silently, dodging patrolling knights with practiced ease. The bitter wind whipped around her, muffling her footsteps but cutting into her exposed skin. It was at times like these when she wished her coat was a bit more practical. Shivering a little, she pushed on towards the secret entrance to the part of Garreg Mach’s underground that led to the prison. In the morning, Jeralt was going to “discover” the Remire plot and “ask” her class for assistance. With any luck, they would make it to Remire before sun-up on the 11th of the Red Wolf Moon, but everyone knew that they were willingly walking into some form of trap. Solon had been holed up in the facility beneath Remire, which the Agarthans called “Epsilon”, for nearly two months. There was no telling what kind of surprises he had in store for them, to say nothing of Thales’ intentions for the place. His letter to Edelgard was nestled securely in her hip satchel, and she intended to learn more about his instructions on how to “overload” Epsilon’s reactor… Whatever _that_ was. Agarthan technology was decidedly not Byleth’s strong suit - she tended to smash whatever she came across to keep it from doing nefarious things. She shuddered slightly as she recalled Sylvain getting electrocuted while leaning up against a seemingly normal pillar and needing an emergency Physic during her disastrous first lifetime.

Fortunately, they happened to have a captive Agarthan ready and waiting. Anacharsis would explain what she wanted to know, or… Well, the “or” wasn’t something she wanted to consider right now. As she stole across the bridge to the floating prison, Byleth nodded to Jeritza. She’d have him free soon - she had the perfect job for him, after all. Continuing onwards, she stopped in front of Anacharsis’ cell. He was kneeling on the floor of his cell with his legs folded under himself, breathing lightly every few moments. He cracked an eye open when he heard her approach, and made no attempt to hide the grimace on his face.

“What are you doing?” 

He sighed, and bowed his head ever so slightly. “I _was_ meditating. You beasts that worship the Fell Star are a lost cause, but I admit that your eastern cousins are slightly less bestial, to have a practice like this.” Byleth almost threw her plans aside to interrogate him about what Those Who Slither were doing in Almyra again, but that hadn’t worked out before. It seems that whoever was in charge out there had a different plan from Thales, and that Anacharsis had somehow fallen out of favor enough to have been sent to Fodlan decades ago. What little he knew was effectively useless, and worse than that, it was unconfirmable. She sighed, and pulled out Thales’ instructions to Edelgard.

“I want you to read this and tell me what exactly Thales means by ‘overload’. Additionally, I want to know whether the steps he gives will lead to this overload or not, what exactly the consequences of it will be, and…” She paused, not wanting to appear ignorant by asking what a “reactor” was. “And you are not allowed to damage what I hand to you in any way, or use it for any purpose other than answering my questions and returning it to me.”

Anacharsis began to tremble slightly from resistance as he examined her words for any possible loophole that he could use to disobey her. Her ward had held up well, and his ability to disobey a direct order was basically nonexistent at this point, but with clever thinking it was possible to get around most orders unless the person giving them was explicit about boundaries. He let out a low grumble when he evidently found no way to exploit the situation, and took the paper from her. His shaking stopped as he began to read. His brow furrowed, and when he got to the end and returned the paper through the bars, he looked slightly troubled.

“Well?”

He sighed. “How to put it… When a reactor overloads, its fuel rods melt down. The resultant explosion caused by this is destructive in its own right, but the radiation from it will linger for several decades and devastate the local environment.” Byleth frowned. “In Fodlani, please.” He growled under his breath, but eventually rephrased himself. “A reactor is a big… energy maker. Like a combustion eng… Er… It’s a bit like a steam engi… no, you don’t have those either… Damn you ignorant beasts, you have _nothing_!” Byleth cocked an eyebrow, and he pushed past his apparent lack of things to compare a reactor to. “Fine. A reactor uses potent and dangerous fuel to make energy, and when it gets overloaded, that fuel melts. As it does so, it creates a fireball that damages the container holding the fuel, which then seeps out. It devastates its surroundings, and the melted fuel leaves behind… I suppose you could compare it to a curse. The land within a given area, depending on the size of the reactor and the amount of melted fuel that was able to leak out after the explosion, will be uninhabitable for decades at least. You beasts would die fairly quick near the epicenter, and would grow sickly and weak at the edge of its range. The land itself would be devastated for years to come for agricultural use, as well.”

Byleth sucked in a breath through her teeth. That was _not_ what she wanted to hear. “It’s like Ailell, then.” He cocked his head to the side, before understanding dawned on his face. “Ah… Not exactly the same, but similar enough. The forest where Ailell is now was likely hiding natural gas or oil underneath it that have kept it in a perpetual blaze. The devastation from a reactor meltdown would be similar in scope, though probably less dramatic.” Byleth, not understanding what either of those two substances were outside of the context that they would burn for a while, simply nodded, adding. “So, very bad, but not as flashy.” Anacharsis scoffed, but confirmed it.

“How big of an explosion are we talking about, in relative terms?” He hummed, thinking it over. “Well… We don’t exactly go and blow up our reactors for fun, but one capable of running a research facility would likely be enough to destroy one of your villages. The initial explosion would ruin most of the facility, and likely do some damage above ground, but it’s the radiation-- rather, the curse, that would destroy everything. Buildings would still be left standing, but the land itself would be useless. The whole area would become a zone of death. My advice, if you _do_ start a meltdown? Run as far away as you can, unless you _want_ to die an agonizing death. Saving us the trouble would be nice of you, but I hardly expect you to extend the courtesy.”

“And Thales’ instructions?” He attempted to put a hand to his chin, though he was stopped by one of his manacles just before he could reach it. Giving that effort up, he sighed. “Most likely everything in them is accurate, yes. I’m a soldier, not an engineer... But if Thales gave that to his little tool, and still doesn’t know that she’s playing the traitor, I expect it will work and allow her time to withdraw. After all, there is no sense in throwing away a useful tool. _Thales_ , at least, is not ruled by petty emotion, as blind as he is.”

Anacharsis sounded almost sullen, which caught Byleth off guard. Was he referring to whoever ran Those Who Slither’s operation in Almyra? Not wanting to let this slip by, Byleth pounced. “Explain what you mean by that. Who are you comparing Thales to?” Anacharsis winced, and stayed silent for a moment. She thought he was going to try to resist for as long as he could, but before he even began to shake, he let his shoulders droop, and began to speak. “I speak of Cleobulus. At the time of my… When I was sent to aid Thales, Cleobulus occupied an equivalent position to the one Thales holds. I suppose he likely still does. In any event, his decision was irrational, and foolish. I…”

He sank down further towards the floor. Clearly whatever had passed between him and this Cleobulus had not endeared the Almyran cell leader to Anacharsis. Byleth sighed. “Enough. You don’t have to say any more. I didn’t want to dig up a sob story, and I don’t have time to pull it out of you right now.” Anacharsis said nothing, and the two of them remained in silence for some time.

Eventually, Byleth decided that she ought to go before she was missed above ground, and turned to leave. Before she started moving, though, something compelled her to speak to the despondent Agarthan again. “You know… You said before that you were a soldier. You were a fine opponent to cross blades with, even if you did…” She sighed, fighting to hold back her emotionality at Sothis being forced to merge with her. “Well, anyway. Cleobulus was a fool to send you away if this was always your job. If he’d kept you close to home, we never would have found out that your people’s reach extended that far until it was too late.” Without waiting for a reaction, Byleth strode away, back up towards the surface.

Half an hour later, Byleth was safely back in her quarters. Judging by the night sky on her way back, it was somewhere in the darkest part of the night, hours before the horizon would begin to brighten for dawn’s first rays of light. She laid down, but her mind was far too busy for sleep. She could not help but run back through her conversation with Anacharsis, her battle plans for Remire… She sighed, and sat back up. This wasn’t going to work. Grumbling, she got dressed again, this time adding her armor. Its weight was somewhat unfamiliar after a month without it, but it was better to be safe than sorry. She ran a hand down the length of the Sword of the Creator, feeling energy hum through it. She attached it to her belt, then swept out into the night.

The wind was now laced with snowflakes - the first of this year’s snow, heralding the arrival of winter. She began to wander, letting her mind roam free as her body walked the familiar paths. As she walked, she remembered scenes from her many lifetimes at Garreg Mach - conversations at the bench where Leonie liked to sit to watch the sun set during the war, an impromptu dance competition on the lawn of the Officer’s Academy when she was training Marianne on basic steps... She was vaguely aware of the night guards spotting her and doing a double-take every now and then, but she was far too consumed at the moment to acknowledge them. Her feet took her upwards to the second floor of the administrative building, which did break through her reverie for a brief moment. Perhaps she could go to the library? The books in there were all sanitized, of course, but there might be _something_ she’d missed. Suddenly, an odd scent reached her nose, wafting down from the third floor.

It was a smooth, earthy scent, with just a hint of spice to it, rounded out by a woody undertone. She inhaled deeply, trying to place where she’d smelled it before, only to realize that it was the subtle scent buried in all of Claude’s clothes, in his hair, and-- no, she needed to stop remembering about _that_ immediately. The question remained, though - why was Claude’s signature scent coming from the third floor? She crept up the stairs, careful to make no noise at all on her way up. The scent grew stronger as she rounded the corner heading towards the star terrace, and to her surprise, she found that one of the doors to it was open. Slipping through, she found herself staring at Claude’s back, only a few feet away.

He was standing in the middle of the Crest of Timotheos laid into the floor, wrapped in a thick cloak with his head tilted upwards. On the small table Rhea kept out here for tea, he had set a little wooden thing - “ _A censor, that’s right!_ ” - which was letting smoke out of small holes in the top. The censor was the source of the smell… He must be burning incense in there. It was rather bold of him to sneak onto Rhea’s private floor and use her terrace for stargazing (or whatever he was actually up to), but Byleth couldn’t help but smile at his audacity.

Not wanting to startle him, she let her armor clank on itself slightly. He stirred, but did not look back to see what had made the noise, so she slipped closer, until she was standing right next to him. She frowned slightly - she was shorter than him now that she wasn’t a man - and tilted her own head upwards. Neither of them spoke for a while as they gazed up at the heavens, but eventually, Claude broke the silence.

“Y’know, back in Almyra, we had all sorts of different traditions about the stars and constellations. On nights when I feel _really_ homesick, I like to look up at them, and tell myself those stories. Keeps me… grounded, I guess.” Byleth hummed - that Claude was even speaking to her was rare these days, and she wanted to make sure she didn’t scare him away.

He reached a hand out from under his cloak, pointing upwards towards the brightest star in the sky, the Blue Sea Star. “You see that one? Wanna hear some stories about it?” She followed his finger, feeling a strange tightness in her chest as she looked up at it. “I’d like that.”

Claude hummed for a moment, then spoke again.

“We call it ‘Tištrya’. A long time ago, there was this wicked god, see, that caused all sorts of droughts and famines. He took the form of a black stallion, and ran around the land causing misery everywhere he went. No rain would fall anywhere because of him, until one day another god showed up, looking like a white stallion. That god’s name was, of course, Tištrya. The two fought, and with the aid of our ancestors, Tištrya defeated the other horse god, bringing rain and plenty. Eventually Tištrya had to leave, but he left his mark in the sky to watch over us. And that mark is the brightest star in the night sky...”

He sighed, then turned his head slightly, finally looking at Byleth. “That star’s also known as the Dog Star, sometimes. The constellation it’s in has a charming little myth, too. The story goes that it was once a hound, blessed by the gods to catch any prey without fail. Its master sent it after a wily fox, who had been blessed by a trickster god to evade any hunter without fail. The two competing blessings kept the poor fox and hound running for _ages_ , until one of the gods intervened. The hound got rewarded by being turned into a constellation with the brightest star in the sky at its neck like a collar, but the fox was turned into a stone.” 

“Not a lot of justice to that one”, Byleth remarked. Claude hummed. “Nope. There never is with gods. That’s why I like Almyra’s better - they’re content to live and let live for the most part. No arbitrary rewards and punishments… No manipulating the flow of time.” Byleth winced, and bowed her head a little.

“Sothis… Sothis never wanted to be a god. Did I ever tell you that?” Claude shook his head, obviously interested in spite of himself. “She hated the idea of people praying to her, or relying on her. However powerful she might have been before she died, there were limits to what she could do. In a way, though, I feel like that’s sort of comforting. Sort of like your first story: if even our gods can’t do everything on their own, maybe there’s hope for us… Maybe her problem was trying to meet the needs of the people that prayed to her by herself, you know?” 

Claude hummed, then cracked a small smile. It didn’t reach his eyes, but it was more than she’d seen from him in ages, so it was a welcome sight anyway. “If that’s a general attempt to get me to stop doing things on my own, I’m afraid you’re barking up the wrong tree.” Byleth turned to face Claude, noting the discomfort in his eyes as she did so. “Can it be a specific attempt, then? I really could use your help with Remire. I don’t know what to expect, but… Maybe with more hands, we can save more of those people.”

Claude sighed. “Balthus mentioned you were heading out there soon… I guess it’d be pretty cold of me to abandon those helpless villagers, wouldn’t it? Fine. I’ll be there.” Byleth smiled, and turned to leave. 

Before she got too far, though, she stopped, resting her hand on the open door. “Just so you know, I could smell your incense from the second floor landing, and my nose isn’t anywhere near as sensitive as Rhea’s. Watch yourself.” A small chuckle reached her ears as she ducked back into the building, off to channel her racing thoughts into action in the training grounds.

\---

Jeralt found Byleth at the training grounds early on the morning of the 10th of Red Wolf Moon. She looked a little rough, like she’d been at it for a few hours at least, which brought a slight frown to his face. Byleth didn’t push herself without reason, but even so… He stomped over towards her, stopping an appropriate distance away so as not to get hit by her swings. She stopped once she noticed him, but her usually hyper-sharp senses were dulled a little. That worried him.

“Hey, kid. You been out here a while?” He made sure to stare directly at her, so she couldn’t lie without it being obvious. She squirmed a little under his gaze, but eventually nodded. “I couldn’t sleep, and then… Well, I needed to clear my head. What time is it?” He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s just past seven bells. Come on, you’re coming with me to get a bite to eat.” She started to protest, but he threw an arm over her shoulder and began steering her out of the training grounds. She let herself be dragged along, but he could tell something was bothering her. They laid into breakfast, and she was unusually subdued throughout the whole affair.

She stood up, probably to go round up the Black Eagles, but he put a hand on her shoulder to stop her. She cocked an eyebrow at him, and he let out a weary sigh before he spoke. “Go clean yourself up. Soak a while. I’m gonna set Cyril after your brats, so you don’t need to worry about them. Just show up at noon, alright?” Byleth’s face twisted up like she was going to protest, but instead, she shrugged her shoulders. “That’s… probably a good idea. Thanks, Dad.” He smiled down at her, and stomped off to find Cyril.

A few hours later, he and a couple battalions of knights were readying up at the stables when Byleth showed up. She looked refreshed, which was good, but still pretty tired. Soon after she arrived, her students started trickling in. The Black Eagles, now thirteen strong with Flayn and Leonie, were all somewhat unsure of _why_ they’d been told to show up (Cyril was an enthusiastic messenger, if not quite reliable), and Byleth led them off to the other side of the stable yard to explain the situation. 

While she was talking to them, Dimitri wandered over, flanked by more than half his class. Jeralt groaned internally. Dimitri introduced Felix (who Jeralt _instantly_ recognized as a Fraldarius before his name was ever said), Sylvain (did anyone else _but_ the Gautiers have hair that red?), and Ingrid (who seemed like a fairly no-nonsense type), and gave a half-hearted one for Dedue after he realized that he needed to make it seem as though Jeralt didn’t already know who the kid was. Jeralt helped the Faerghus kids get saddled up once Dimitri finished, hoping beyond hope that Hanneman didn’t pick this exact moment to visit the stables. He’d be quite upset at the majority of his house heading off without him, and Jeralt didn’t feel like having that argument today.

Byleth and her brats came over and got saddled up, chatting amicably with the Blue Lions who’d shown up. A few of his knights gave him an odd look at all the student presence, but Jeralt simply explained that Byleth was never one to let an opportunity to help out pass her by, and that the more recent ones were volunteers. “The more hands, the better.” He tried to believe it.

Soon, even more students showed up. The new arrivals were Golden Deer kids - Lorenz (the Gloucester brat he’d taken out on patrol with Leonie at the beginning of the year), Balthus (an Albrecht if ever he’d seen one), Hilda (who he’d taken a shine to from their meetings), and, to his shock, Claude. He’d done a double take on spotting the Golden Deer’s house leader, as the Riegan boy had made himself noticeably scarce any time their group met. Still, as he’d just said to his men, the more hands, the better…

They got underway a little past one in the afternoon. It was far from an ideal start time, and it meant that they’d need to set up camp, but at least they’d be guaranteed to get to Remire with plenty of daylight ahead of them tomorrow. The journey was uneventful, and Jeralt was reminded of the last trip he’d been on with all three of the house leaders, back in the Great Tree Moon. They hadn’t exactly gotten along back then, but at least Claude had been _pretending_ to play nice with the other two. He barely had two words to spare for them today, and he was even short with his own housemates (and former housemates, in the cases of Leonie and the little Ordelia girl). Jeralt had half a mind to go off at him in some of the rough Almyran he’d picked up from a few jobs out that way, just to rattle his cage… But then, after all the work he’d put into keeping his knights from being racist idiots, that probably wouldn’t go over well. Their company bedded down for the night in the foothills of the Oghma Mountains, less than an hour’s ride from Remire. Jeralt took first watch, knowing that he wasn’t going to be sleeping tonight anyway.

\---

Their company came to a stop shortly before nightfall. By Dimitri’s reckoning, they were still about an hour outside of Remire, but there was wisdom in leaving their approach to the dawn. Byleth gathered the students together at their main campfire, eyeing them all with an exhausted look on her face. She sighed, and then began to speak.

“Alright everyone. We’ve got a big day ahead of us tomorrow. We’re moving out before dawn, so get some shut-eye as soon as we’re done here. Let the Knights worry about watch schedules. Once we get up, I want each of you to break off into teams. The Knights are here partially as backup for our forces, but will also handle the evacuation once we get civilians outside the village limits. We don’t know quite what to expect, but it’s likely that the horde of demonic beasts that attacked the monastery during the Horsebow Moon came from this area.” That was news to most of the students, but it made sense to Dimitri. Why else would Those Who Slither in the Dark have a laboratory set up out here? Why else would they be kidnapping villagers?

Byleth shifted her stance and ran a hand through her green hair. “I’m going to give you your assignments now, so pay attention. First is our infiltration team, which will be led by Edelgard. She knows the territory well enough to lead a small group through the countryside without being detected. Hubert, Petra, and Felix will be joining her.” Dimitri blinked - Felix was going to be on an infiltration mission, rather than one of the teams that would see battle directly? He was going to _hate_ that. As he predicted, the raven-haired swordsman scowled, but surprisingly, Felix did not directly object. Byleth paused to consider her words, then spoke again. “Your team’s primary goal will be to find the holding cells inside the facility and get the people trapped there out. Eliminate anyone that stands in your way. Once you’ve evacuated the civilians, join the guard team.” She set her mouth in a thin, grim line, and the four of them nodded.

“Next, the evacuation team. Your team will be led by Dimitri.” He nodded in acknowledgement, and Byleth continued. “Your mission will be to sweep through the village, locate civilians, and help them evacuate. Warn them that they may not be able to return for anything if things go poorly, and help them pack _only_ the essentials. Clothes can be replaced, as can food. I want Ferdinand, Linhardt, Bernadetta, Dorothea, Flayn, Hapi, Dedue, Ingrid, and Hilda on this team.” Dimitri looked each of them in the eye, and they all nodded at him. “We may not have much time once we get there, so I want you to pair off and go door-to-door. At the first sign of trouble, you’re to switch from helping the villagers pack to evacuating them as fast as humanly possible, packing done or not.”

“Finally, the guard team. Your team will be led by Claude.” The green-eyed archer nodded as he leaned against his sleeping wyvern, his face grim. “Your mission is to form a perimeter around the village, and keep an eye out for trouble. In the event that anything goes wrong, you’re to assist the evacuation team in getting civilians clear, then engage and destroy the enemy. I want Caspar, Lysithea, Leonie, Constance, Sylvain, and Balthus on this team. Those of you with a mount, grab someone who doesn’t have one. We want your team to be as high-mobility as it can be. One more thing: I’ll be assisting this team directly, but Claude is in charge. Look to him for orders unless everything goes to shit.”

Byleth poked at the fire, clearly agitated. “Finally… In the event that something goes very wrong in that facility, you are all under orders to get as far away from Remire as you can, as fast as you can. Keep your eyes and ears open out there, and be smart. I will not let a single one of you die out here… But I also won’t lie to you. This is probably our most dangerous mission to date. Don’t make my job harder than it has to be.” With a sigh, Byleth added “Dismissed!”, before turning and heading off to confer with Captain Jeralt. Byleth’s demeanor had clearly influenced all of his classmates, as most headed off to bed with no real fanfare or announcement. Dimitri did as well, resting fitfully for a few hours until he was awakened by Dedue’s gentle voice.

He sighed, and rounded up his team members. They rode on in silence, cutting through the predawn air with heavy hearts. As they reached the outskirts of the villager, Dimitri noticed Hubert drawing a sigil in the air before tapping Byleth’s arm. A glowing mark appeared on it, before he and the rest of the infiltration team crept off to the northeast. Byleth wandered closer, and caught Dimitri and Claude’s attention. In a low voice, she explained that it was a charm design to be triggered remotely in case the infiltration team needed rescuing. That made sense, but he _rather_ hoped it didn’t come to that.

At Byleth’s signal, the guard team swept around the village, making a loose perimeter that was filled in by a few of the Knights. The majority of them were staying out of sight, though a small company was to wait by the main entrance to Remire to assist with the evacuation. Byleth rode on the back of Constance’s pegasus, allowing her to scan over the entire area with ease. 

Dimitri gathered his team, and split them up evenly. He and Ferdinand took part of the village, while Linhardt and Hapi, Bernadetta and Dorothea, and Ingrid and Hilda took three others. Dedue was grouped with Flayn at her insistence, and Dimitri had to admit that it made a certain kind of sense to send a sweet-looking girl with someone who could look as unintentionally intimidating as Dedue could. They took the final area of the village, and the evacuation team got to work.

Surprisingly (and worryingly), Dimitri and Ferdinand encountered very few villagers. Their part of the village had included the inn where he and the other house leaders had first met Captain Jeralt and Professor Byleth, but it was completely deserted. A note on the bar said that it was closed “until further notice”, which caused Dimitri to scowl - inns were usually very hardy businesses. Searching the houses, they found only one family. A middle-aged man opened the door with a pitchfork brandished at the two of them, but upon seeing their uniforms, he immediately dropped it, and apologized. Dimitri and Ferdinand helped him, his wife, and their three children (two girls and a boy, all brown-haired little terrors) to pack. Soon after, they sent them on to the Knights, before heading up to the village square. They were joined by the rest of their team before the sun had quite reached its midday zenith. To Dimitri’s dismay, his findings were universal. Each group had found one family, with Dedue and Flayn being lucky enough to find two. Less than forty people, all told. Remire had a population in the low hundreds, so for more than _half_ of the population to have gone missing…

Suddenly, a horrible cacophony of screeching, growling, and gibbering assaulted their ears. The students whirled to face the sound, which had come from the east of them, only to find a score of horrifying beasts. No wolves or draconic beasts were in their number - all of them had strange skin that was black as pitch and seemingly made of wrapped bandages. Eerie light poured from their foreheads, and Dimitri gasped as he realized that he could faintly make out the outline of Crests embedded onto the stones set in the middle of the lights. There were five of them that looked for all the world like giant, warped bats - these were the ones making the horrible screeching sound. A few of the earth-bound monsters were larger than the rest, and wore strange, armored masks that obscured the Crests on their foreheads - these were evidently the leaders, as they strode ahead of the rest of the pack. With a shout, the guard team joined them in the town square, ready to face off against the horrifying monsters shambling towards them.

\---

Edelgard, Hubert, Petra, and Felix stealthily made their way to the entrance of the Epsilon facility. Neither Petra nor Felix had questioned why Edelgard was so sure of where they were going, but this would probably require an explanation. Edelgard let out a quiet sigh and re-focused on the terrain ahead - their mission required her attention now, not what she might have to say later on. Soon, she started to recognize landmarks from Thales’ letter. She motioned for them to move even more cautiously, and began looking for any hidden traps. To her surprise, they made it all the way to the hidden entrance without running into a single one. She very nearly scoffed out loud at the hubris of Those Who Slither in the Dark, but thankfully held her tongue as a couple sentries came into view.

Hubert grinned malevolently as he ensnared the two of them in an illusion. Once they were oblivious to the world, Felix and Petra slit their throats. Quick, quiet, and clean. They retrieved the key that Thales mentioned the sentries would have, a small rectangular object made of no material she could identify. She held the strange key up to what appeared for all the world to simply be a rock set into a small cliffside, but a chime sounded from somewhere, and part of the cliffside swung inward, revealing a large tunnel. Steeling herself, Edelgard and her team slipped inside.

They met almost no resistance along the way. Petra and Felix were proving to be quite the capable and deadly team whenever they did encounter a hapless Agarthan along the way, but they found less than a dozen all told. According to Thales’ map of the facility, the reactor was in the main laboratory, and the holding cells were located very close to the laboratory. Edelgard tried very hard not to focus on the implications of that placement. They hung a left down a hallway, ignoring the rooms off to the right, which were likely barracks, a mess hall, and the other boring functional rooms required to sustain a population here. While Edelgard would have loved to put all of them to the sword then and there, rescuing the captured villagers was their top priority. They pushed ahead, and soon found the holding cells.

It was… unspeakably horrific. Children wept openly, chains rattled, and misery choked the air. Rows upon rows of jail cells lined each wall, stretching back as far as the eye could see. Sentries patrolled the area, though they had not noticed their group enter yet. Returning to an area like this brought sensations and feelings back that Edelgard could not keep quiet - before long, she had started to hyperventilate. Hubert eyed her with concern, but she waved him off. She could not - would not - break here. She _had_ to be strong - any of these poor unfortunates could be yet another Edelgard von Hresvelg, ninth of eleven in line for the Imperial throne, who had just made a dear friend and taught him to dance…

Petra’s hand on her shoulder snapped her back to reality. Letting out a shuddering breath, she looked around the room. Their two sword-wielding companions had made quick work of any guards or researchers in the room, and were looking around for a release to the cells. Hubert hovered by her, uncertainty on his face. “Lady Edelgard? What do you need me to do?” She sighed. “I… I don’t know. Let us focus on the task at hand for now.” She wiped her brow, which had become beaded with sweat at some point, only to find her hand trembling violently. The occasional whines and pleas of the prisoners were only causing her to remember her own past, and she… She needed them gone.

Mercifully, Felix managed to find the release. As the cells sprang open, Edelgard gasped out to the swordsman “Felix… Take Petra, and get these people out of here. I… We will join you later.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “And just what do you plan on doing? Need I remind you that the future of Faerghus depends on you?” Edelgard shook her head. “I have never forgotten. I will never forget…” She shook her head, trying to clear her mind. “Please, Felix. Just go. I have unfinished business here.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Felix nodded. He and Petra rounded up the villagers - probably somewhere upwards of forty, and almost all children or teens - and escorted them out. Edelgard leaned against a wall by the doorway, attempting to keep her face as neutral as she could as the villagers passed by her. She blinked, and recoiled in terror as saw her own face, and the faces of her siblings on those children passing by her... They all wore the faces of dead (or damned) Hresvelgs, and Edelgard suppressed the urge to vomit.

Finally, they were gone. Hubert was at her side in an instant, fussing over her. She didn’t need this. She didn’t want this. She wanted… She _needed_ …

“Hubert. Fetch me my armor. The Flame Emperor will burn this place to ash.” 

Hubert, ever dutiful, bowed and warped away. He returned a minute later with the trunk containing her Flame Emperor regalia. Slightly paler in the face than usual, he helped her into the armor. As she slid the white and red mask on, she let out a shaky sigh. Hubert fidgeted in place, before asking “And now, Lady Edelgard? What are your orders?” She hefted her axe, storming down the hallway that led away from the laboratory, down towards the living quarters. “Now, we kill every last one of these wretched creatures.”

And kill they did. Edelgard fell upon them with more fury than she had ever felt before. Each blow met its mark, this one cutting a hapless researcher in twain, that one caving in a cook’s chest... Their blood soaked into her cloak, her robes, and down into her clothes beneath the armor. When security forces arrived, following the screams and the blood, Edelgard laid into them. Her axe handle broke as she cleaved the helm of one of the heavily armored knights that charged at her. She grabbed a replacement from the dead Agarthan, his body still convulsing as her silver axe's head remained firmly lodged in his brain, and launched herself at his companions. Hubert managed to kill one or two here and there, but this… _slaughter_ , for it could not be called a battle, was all Edelgard’s doing. Those who attempted to flee met the power of her magic, writhing and screaming inside a Bolgannone she laid at the entrance to the living quarters wing. Eventually, they ran out of Agarthans to kill. Edelgard’s chest heaved, and her mask distorted her labored breathing into a death rattle.

She strode through the still-burning flames of her Bolgannone, stepping over charred bodies. Her cloak, soaked in blood as it was, refused to catch fire, and Hubert had to step very carefully to follow her. She marched her way into the laboratory, where Solon was waiting for them. He flinched as he saw the amount of blood that soaked Edelgard, leaning his remaining arm against his staff weakly. She pointed her borrowed Agarthan axe at him. “And now, you. May there be a hell for monsters such as you… If there is, I shall send you there myself.”

He dodged her wild first strike, falling backwards as her axe left a deep crack in the floor. He began to run, now, in a pathetic bid to escape her wrath. She stomped after him, occasionally hurling a fireball to counter his own, pointless attempts at magic. Eventually, he stumbled and fell, his staff clattering uselessly to the ground several feet away. In a flash, she was on him, straddling the Agarthan as she pummeled him with the flat of her axe, and eventually her armored fists as she hurled the axe to the side. Dazed and barely conscious, he still somehow managed a sneer as she drew her dagger. He spat blood onto her mask, and croaked out “You… are nothing but a… rabid dog… The Fell Star... thinks herself invincible... and has found a willing pet… But you will fall... before the end… Thales will--”

She stabbed downwards, piercing a lung. Solon cried out in pain, his taunting forgotten. She yanked the dagger back out, then stabbed downward again, aiming for his other lung. She systematically stabbed into every organ she could think of, before burying the dagger in where his heart should be. She heard a faint cracking sound, and Solon found his sneer once more. He gasped out “Fool…”, and then stirred no more. An odd wave of magical energy rippled out from his corpse, though it seemed to have no noticeable effects on either of them. As the light left his eyes, lights began to flash on the large object she realized must have been the reactor, and strange noises that instilled dismay in her began to sound from all around them.

Retrieving her dagger and sheathing it, she stood and sighed. “It would seem that Solon has triggered this ‘overload’ for us. Dastard… Let us go, Hubert. We need to warn the others.” An idea flashed through Edelgard’s mind, and behind her mask, she let out a soft chuckle. She grabbed the Agarthan axe, before standing over Solon’s limp body once again.

\---

Dimitri gasped for breath as he steadied himself on his mount. The guard and evacuation teams were fighting valiantly, and half of the beasts had fallen… But none of the armored ones were among that number yet. These beasts were tougher by far than most of the ones that had attacked the monastery, likely due to their strange Crests. Byleth swooped by on Constance’s dark pegasus, coming to a stop next to him. He mentioned the markings on their forehead to her, and she nodded. “Crest beasts are especially dangerous, but at the very least, they haven’t figured out how to make the big ones yet.” As she flew off to confront one of the armored beasts, which stood at at least the size of a two-story house and had to have been as long as the inn was wide, Dimitri’s mind raced. That _wasn’t_ one of the big ones? 

They had, all told, done very well. Most of them had minor cuts and bruises, but the only serious injuries were Dedue, who had been speared in the shoulder by the impossibly sharp talons of the bat-like Crest beasts, Caspar, who had managed to have one of the beasts land on him as it died, breaking a few ribs and twisting his ankle, and Hilda, who was unconscious from one of the armored beasts sweeping her aside. The three of them had been evacuated to the Knights, who had attempted to join the battle earlier. Byleth refused - she was adamant about them escorting the civilians to safety, and Dimitri couldn’t exactly blame her after seeing the beasts first-hand. Shortly before their wounded were delivered to Jeralt, Felix and Petra joined them, having rescued the kidnapped villagers from the underground facility. By the grim looks on their faces, Dimitri knew that Edelgard was still inside, likely purging the fiends that infested that place in her own, private war. He was worried, but… Edelgard could take care of herself, couldn’t she?

Suddenly, a magic pulse swept across the battlefield. He checked himself and those around him to make sure it hadn’t done anything harmful, but they seemed to be fine. What’s more, the Crest beasts _had_ been affected - they were screeching at each other, clawing at their own heads (or armor) and writhing as if in pain. Soon, to the confusion of everyone on the field, the beasts turned on each other. They tore each other apart viciously, evidently forgetting entirely about the students. Byleth, not one to waste an opportunity, called for them to regroup a safe distance away from the beasts.

As they came together again, a figure appeared in a column of light. They wore dark armor, covered by robes and a cloak, with feathers adorning the shoulders. An eerie white and red mask was set into their helmet. The figure was literally dripping with blood, though nothing in their stance betrayed any injuries on their part. Shockingly, the figure gripped a horrid, pale severed head by its stringy hair. Its forehead was massive, and its odd eyes were splayed open in shock. Dimitri, of recognized the armor from months earlier - it was--

“I am the Flame Emperor. It is I who will reforge this world… But I come to you today as the enemy of your enemy. Behold, Solon, the ‘savior of all’.” She - for it was obviously Edelgard under there to Dimitri’s eyes - held aloft the severed head, and several of the more sensitive students retched at the sight. Dimitri himself felt a bit queasy, but held himself together. Turning, the Flame Emperor hurled the head at the fighting Crests beasts, where it was squashed beneath a giant, clawed foot. Returning her attention to the students, she spoke again. “Now, you must flee this place. Foul magics have been awakened, and there is not much time left before Remire and the surrounding areas are bathed in unholy fire. Any who stay are doomed to perish. Do not return to this place, and warn your superiors of this danger.” 

Without waiting for a response, Edelgard disappeared into a column of light, and Dimitri sighed heavily. Byleth caught his eye, and nodded. She whistled, getting all the students’ attention. “Alright everyone, you heard the man. Double time, we need to evacuate the area, _now_!” If the other students found this situation suspicious, they thankfully didn’t say so. Instead, they all began galloping or flying as fast as they could towards the entrance of Remire. The bulk of the Knights had already moved towards Garreg Mach with the villagers they had rescued, and Jeralt’s small personal retinue fell in with them as they fled. Just to the south of the village, they were joined by Edelgard and Hubert, riding together on a coal-black horse. Edelgard’s clothes and hair were soaked in blood, and she had a glazed look in her eyes. Byleth let out a sigh of relief as she appeared, and their whole company fled south.

\---

Claude frowned from the back of Omar. His white wyvern arriving from Almyra the month before had been such a welcome piece of home… But he couldn’t afford to get sentimental right now. Edelgard had shown her masked face as the Flame Emperor, and what’s more had evidently _beheaded_ Solon. Something bad had happened down in that facility, but the urgency in her voice was no joke. Balthus had said something about a “meltdown” from his report on the last group meeting, but apparently this was going to be a hell of a lot more violent than something melting. He shuddered as he recalled the destruction of Shambhala in his original time - if it was anything like that, the area around Remire was going to be completely and utterly fucked. They’d been riding at a hard pace for nearly an hour now, and had caught up to the Knights and the refugees from Remire - hopefully this was far enough out to avoid collateral damage.

His mind on the past now, he began to think about when it was _his_ class going to Remire. Things had been so different, then. Solon’s objective had been different, and the villagers had attacked each other (and them!) because of his despicable meddling. Edelgard had appeared as the Flame Emperor then, too, but she’d tried to get Byleth to join her. With no small amount of annoyance, Claude realized that this new timeline was, at least, working out better for the people of Remire. They’d managed to save so few people last time… Perhaps this was, at least in part, worth all the turmoil he was going through. He sighed, knowing that it was a lie, but still taking a little solace in it nonetheless. When the time came, things like that would be all he had…

Suddenly, the very earth behind them erupted in fire. Omar screeched in protest as a shockwave sliced through the very air, and Claude twisted in the saddle. To his dawning horror, a giant cloud began to rise from where Remire had been, its form growing to resemble a giant mushroom. A heat wave assaulted them next, and Byleth screamed at the top of her lungs “EVERYONE GET THE FUCK DOWN, _NOW!_ ” Omar landed roughly, and everyone huddled low against the ground. Claude felt a massive weight in the pit of his stomach. This was the kind of destructive power Those Who Slither held… He could not falter any more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay, everyone. This chapter seriously did not want to be written. Writer's block is a bitch and a half.
> 
> I think I've mentioned it in passing before, but Nabateans in my conception of them have stronger senses than humans. Better night vision, better hearing, and yes, better sense of smell. Back during Rhea's therapy section, you might remember her picking up a whiff of antiseptic that there was *no* way Manuela would have noticed? Well, ole Byleth here is experiencing some changes, as we've seen. I wouldn't be surprised if her ears were starting to change shape a little by the end of all this.
> 
> Claude's stories are based on actual myths! The first one is a Persian story about a god of rainfall from Zoroastrianism, while the second is a Greek story. Also he was burning something with sandalwood - I couldn't decide if I wanted him to be flexing with expensive pure stuff, or slumming it with some nag champa, so I didn't specify.
> 
> Claude's white wyvern's name comes from Joe Zieja (Claude's voice actor) on twitter. Evidently it's an inside joke, but I like the idea a lot. I've seen a lot of fics gender it as female and give it these wonderful names, but... I dunno. Something about a wyvern named "Omar" is just funny to me. Like a dog named "Steve".
> 
> Also hey wow, Thales lied (what a shocker). It wasn't a nuclear meltdown - Solon turned the reactor into a bomb.
> 
> As an aside, I posted the first chapter of the Seteth fic I've mentioned before. It's extremely not my focus right now - I need to get A Matched Pair done first, after all - but if you wanted to give the first chapter a read, and subscribe for any of the infrequent updates it may get while I work on this fic, I would appreciate it. https://archiveofourown.org/works/29216721/chapters/71737296


	42. Winter's Breath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The monastery residents spot the explosion, Jeralt and Byleth lead the way back home, Byleth has several meetings in a row, and Dimitri has an unexpected conversation.

Rhea had spent most of her morning on the private balcony on the south side of the administrative building. It was far smaller than her star terrace, but the star terrace looked only northward, and Remire was to the west south-west. It was mostly a futile effort on her part, but knowing that Byleth had gone willingly into a den of vipers… It made her blood run cold. She took her morning tea out there (chamomile, in an attempt to calm her nerves), senses straining for _something_. She didn’t know what she was looking for, but some odd instinct forced her to look nonetheless. By noon, the tea had gone quite cold, but Rhea still nursed a cup. Perhaps a stronger blend was needed for times like these, as her nerves had been quite unaffe--

A blinding light flashed far off on the horizon, from where Remire was located. Rhea was certain that, if her heart _could_ beat, it would have skipped more than a few. The color drained from her face as a shockwave flew past her and a loud _bang_ reverberated in the air. A pinprick of fire on the horizon gave way to a small, growing cloud that stretched upwards, curling in on itself to resemble a mushroom. It was a shape Rhea could still see in her nightmares… A reminder from their war with Agartha, the twisted shape that brought pestilence to the land, the same pestilence that Mother had to exhaust her power to heal.

She sank to her knees as the door to the balcony flew open. She was dimly aware of shouting, of hands grabbing onto her, but her mind was too far away for it to matter. Byleth was in Remire. Remire was no more. And that meant…

She began to shake. Byleth, and Jeralt… They were both out there, and now… What if they hadn’t managed to escape in time? What if they’d had no warning? What if they--

She blinked, finding her vision blurry from tears, and turned her head. Green hair was in her face, and blue hair behind it. She blinked again as the faces of Seteth and Bereth slowly came into focus. The fear on their faces mirrored what she assumed must be on her own, but Bereth… The sweet child could have no idea what the cloud portended, not like Seteth could. Seteth’s face took on a grim bearing, and he slowly stood from the kneeling position he had been in. He sighed wearily, and looked her in the eye. “Rhea… I will go and… keep order. Please rest.” Turning to Bereth, he added “Would you stay with her? It would not do for her to be alone right now.” Bereth looked confused, but nodded all the same. Seteth squared his shoulders and marched out, no doubt to face the population of Garreg Mach who would soon be clamoring for reassurance.

Bereth hesitated for a moment before sitting down on the ground next to her. Rhea scooted a little to the side to give him space, which caused the lip of the balcony wall to be just in her way so that she could no longer see the cloud. Neither said anything for a moment, until Rhea let out a long, shuddering breath. “Oh, my dear child…” Bereth looked past her for a moment, staring at the cloud. “What… What _is_ it, Lady Rhea?” His voice was small, and subdued. Nothing like the howling anger he had displayed but a few short days ago. Something stirred in her chest, and she reached out for his hand. Taking it in her own, she began to stroke it. “It is… A remnant. Something from the distant past, a tool of those who fought against Mother and I in days gone by.” His blue eyes betrayed fear, but his tone was curious when he spoke again. “‘Mother’…”

Rhea winced - had Byleth or Mother herself truly not revealed her identity to Bereth? Had she just made an unnecessary revelation? Would Bereth recoil from her, if he knew the truth? While she was lost in her thoughts, Bereth lowered his head. “So… It _is_ true, then. Cethleann wouldn’t tell me your name, but… You’re Seiros, aren’t you?” Rhea’s eyes widened in shock - Flayn had revealed her own identity to Bereth? Hesitantly, she nodded. “I bore that name during the War of Heroes. Mother knew me by another name, but I forswore it after Mother was… was taken from me. The same wretched beings who took her from me killed almost all of my family… That cloud is their work. And now…” He sighed, leaning back against the balcony wall. “Now Byleth and Jeralt are out there in the thick of it.”

She nodded. Fear was flowing out of her, slowly. In its place, a burning anger began to flourish in her chest. 

She stood suddenly, dragging Bereth to his feet as well with a surprised yelp. She fixed him with a fierce look, before declaring “I am going to interrogate a prisoner. Come!” Evidently confused by her declaration, Bereth nonetheless nodded, and followed after her as she swept down towards the entrance to the tunnels that led to the secret cells. Her thoughts were only of pain, of making that _wretch_ hurt like she was hurting… He would answer for their crimes, she would make _certain_ of it. They strode across the bridge towards the cells, Bereth only a step behind her despite his wide-eyed astonishment at the technology at work.

She ignored the Hrym boy in the cell, despite his surprised look at her and Bereth. She would deal with him later, but for now… She came to a halt in front of the final cell, and gasped in shock. She had left the Agarthan scum in this cell secured heavily, and yet here he was wearing only _four_ manacles. What’s more, she was certain that she had stripped him when she took his armor, yet he was now wearing clothes. She narrowed her eyes, but decided that mystery could wait. Electric blue eyes stared up at her, full of hate. “ _You_. You will tell me _everything_ about why a nuclear explosion just occurred in Remire, and you will do so _now_.” Though his eyes blew open in shock, the caged Agarthan had the audacity to sneer at her. “You’re not the one that holds my leash, fell spawn. I owe you nothing.”

Before she could explode in rage, Bereth reached a hand out to the bars, which shimmered golden under his touch. He recoiled, but the sight was enough to make Rhea pause. She tentatively reached out her own hand, but the bars did not react to her. Experimentally, Rhea attempted to unlock the cell, but found that she could not open the door. The Agarthan watched her in amusement. “It seems that the Fell Star wants me all to herself. I suppose you must not be trusted. How _embarrassing_.”

Rhea sneered at him. “If Byleth is dead, you will never escape from this place. Whatever she has done ensures it.” That, at least, wiped the smug grin off of his pale face. “What do you mean, 'dead'? I told her how to escape a meltdown. She cannot be _that_ stupid.” Rhea snarled at him, growling out “ _What meltdown?!_ What did you tell her?! **Answer me**!” The captive Agarthan glared at her, and settled into a stony silence. She tried again, and again, but was met with the same result. She could feel herself losing control, and as if to confirm it, her teeth and fingernails began to lengthen. She was certain that her pupils had turned to slits, as well. She needed to step away, to calm down… Bereth could not see her like this.

She made a noise of disgust to mask the true reason for her action, and moved to face the abyss below them. Focusing on her breath, she began to slowly draw her power back inside her, remembering Seteth’s warning about her temper. He had little room to speak, after his admission that he had almost managed to half-shift over the Rhodos Coast, but… Unlike her brother, _she_ could still transform fully. This prison would not survive the weight of The Immaculate One. She felt her nails and teeth begin to retract as she focused. In, and out. In, and out… 

From behind her, Bereth spoke. “I know what you are, and I would love nothing more than to hurt you for what you tried to do to Flayn, and what you _did_ do to Byleth… But right now we _need_ answers. What was that cloud shaped like a mushroom?” Rhea shook her head - it was a futile endeavor, after all. Yet, incredibly, she heard the Agarthan in the cell take in a pained breath. She whirled around, spotting a surprised look on his face as his body began to tremble. “W-what… How? How can _you_ hold this power too? You’re not the Fell Star!” Bereth looked bewildered by this turn of events, but several things clicked into place at once in Rhea’s mind.

Byleth had, at some point, placed this Agarthan under her compulsion. That was the “leash”, and this shaking was evidence of the compulsion at work. Furthermore, she had placed an additional ward on the cell, one that Rhea could not hope to undo. She had evidently been interrogating the Agarthan by herself for some time… That likely explained his change of attire and restraint - Byleth was far too soft on these creatures. And this turn of events further solidified her theory of Bereth’s origins. If he truly was a shard of Byleth’s soul, then a piece of Mother resided in him as well. It was this power that called out to the compulsion Byleth had placed on the Agarthan.

As his trembling worsened, the captive Agarthan let his shoulders droop. “The cloud you speak of shouldn’t be there. Thales ordered a simple meltdown in his letter… Either he lied, or Solon modified the reactor to turn it into a bomb. Either option would lead to this.” Bereth, surprisingly, was able to follow along. “I see. And this ‘bomb’ you speak of is why the cloud appeared?” The Agarthan let his head sink downward, his spirit evidently broken to be so humiliated before Rhea. “You told her how to evacuate when it was a… ‘meltdown’, I believe you called it. Would that still help in this case?” 

The Agarthan was silent for a moment, but before he began to tremble, he shrugged. “I’m a soldier, not an engineer. If she managed to get out of there fast enough, she’s probably not dead. If she didn’t, she is. That’s all I know.” The relief that swept over Rhea at his words was almost enough to send her to her knees, but she resisted the urge. Bereth hummed, stroking his chin. “I see. Thank you.” The Agarthan growled at him, practically hissing as he said “I don’t _want_ your thanks, stupid beast. I have no need of patronization by my captors.”

Bereth said nothing, but turned back to her with a determined look on his face. “If… If there’s even a chance that she’s still alive, I won’t miss it. Will you come with me to the gates, Grandmother?” Part of her wanted to rage at the Agarthan scum in the cells for a little longer, but the rational part of her mind knew that Bereth was right. She twitched as the fire within her battled with her rational mind - if Bereth could force this Agarthan worm to speak, they could learn so much… Byleth would come, or would not come… Another sensation found her as warmth bloomed in her chest. Suddenly, it dawned on her what he had actually said. “I… You called me…” Bereth looked worried, and he asked “Oh, forgive me! Should I not have?”

Rhea, in spite of herself, smiled. Her anger could wait, for now. “It is strange to my ears, that is all. I quite enjoyed it. And… you are right, of course. Let us be rid of this place. Byleth will not fall so easily. She cannot.” Together, the two of them set off for the surface, light and hope buoying Rhea for the first time in many long years.

\---

“Utter fucking bedlam” is the only term that came to mind for the scene that was unfolding in front of Jeralt’s eyes. Putting aside whatever in the hell had just _happened_ for a moment, every single one of these refugees from Remire was now whipped up into a storm of panic. Most of them were just kids, so it was accented by that horrible pitch kids could somehow screech at that stabbed like a knife into the base of any parent’s neck, demanding attention. His knights were doing a passable job of keeping themselves together at the very least, but their peace was extremely fragile, more likely his relentless drilling holding them by a thread than any internal fortitude on their part. At least Byleth’s kids were doing alright. They’d all probably seen enough weird shit happen by now to be able to just roll with this. He pinched the bridge of his nose, then started trying to calm the kids down. It was, of course, no use - they were completely beside themselves, and it’s not like Jeralt could blame them. But still, if he could get even a single moment of goddess-damned calm--

A huge, flashing light shone from the edge of the mob of kids. He squinted and turned to look at it, only to find Byleth standing on a nearby tree stump, her arm raised in the air. She was projecting a giant, shimmering sigil with the Crest of Flames in the center of it into the air, and _that_ at least managed to get the adult refugees’ attention. Even some of the kids managed to stop bawling, miraculously. She had a grim look on her face, but when she spoke up over the noise of the crowd, her voice was warm and authoritative. Jeralt was a little startled - it sounded just like the voice Rhea put on when she officiated ceremonies in the cathedral on holy days. Her eyes were positively glowing, even against the sunlight.

“Everyone! Listen to the sound of my voice! I know that you’re scared beyond belief. I know a lot of you miss your families, and are confused and hurting. But you need to listen to myself and to the Knights of Seiros for now, at least until we can get you all somewhere safe. Now then - if any of you were hurt by that blast just now, I want you to move off to one side” - she motioned to her right - “and our healers will take a look at you. If you’re physically alright, I want you to go ahead and sit down where you are. In just a few minutes, once our healers are done, we’re all going to pick up, and go to Garreg Mach. Lady Rhea will receive you, and the Church of Seiros will find places for you to stay, and food for you to eat. I need you little ones to be brave for me. Understand?” There was a general murmur of assent, and one little girl with a voice like a tiny bell cried out “Okay, nice lady!” Weak, tired laughter swept through their whole group at that, and the people began to separate themselves out just like Byleth had asked.

There weren’t many injuries, thankfully. A few refugees had managed to hurt themselves when they all hit the ground, but the worst of it was the odd sprain here or there. Thanking the goddess seemed a bit rich, considering she was part of Byleth now, but Jeralt felt the urge all the same as Byleth managed to get their party on the move within half an hour. By Jeralt’s estimation, they had about four hours of daylight left - not enough to reach Garreg Mach before dark. He moved to the front of the column and raised this point to Byleth, noticing that her hair, too, was shimmering faintly. He filed that away for later - freaky goddess shit, most likely, but still concerning to see on his kid.

Byleth hummed as she thought it over. “Well… I can teach our mages how to cast a really basic Light magic spell. It’s completely useless offensively, but it should create enough light for us to travel by once the sun goes down. I don’t think we should keep these people out on the roads overnight, much less try to camp with them.” Jeralt nodded. “That’s fine then. I’ll round up the mages and have them come up front. And… Good job, By. You really took charge back there. I’m proud of you.” Byleth smiled radiantly, and reached out to give Jeralt’s arm a quick squeeze. “Thanks, Dad. I learned from the best.” Jeralt was an expert at letting compliments flow off him like water off a duck’s back, but compliments from his _daughter_? That one staggered him a little, and he let a small smile show on his normally serious face.

Darkness started to settle in once they were in the Oghma Mountain foothills. Probably another hour’s march, but… Walking mountain paths in the dark was a recipe for injury or worse even without involving villagers who’d likely never been further out than Arundel’s main city for trading. The younger kids started to whine a little at the encroaching dark, which prompted Byleth to summon a _giant_ orb of light above them. It shone like the sun, and Byleth did whatever she’d done earlier to magnify her voice again. “Alright everyone! We’re about an hour from Garreg Mach. Do not look up at this orb; it’ll hurt your eyes to stare at it for too long. Our mages are going to carry light all around us as well, so there’s no need to be afraid of the dark. Just a little bit further, and you all can rest.” Once again, the refugees listened, and their party got back moving without incident. They soon reached the village below the monastery, and the guards and villagers stared in awe at Byleth’s orb of light.

As they reached Garreg Mach’s entryway and marketplace, Byleth let her light dissipate, since the monastery grounds were lit up like a beacon with the flurry of activity that was taking place. Jeralt grimaced - of _course_ the residents of the monastery had panicked, he should have seen that coming. And yet, as they drew up the steps of the entryway and caught sight of Seteth, Bereth, and Rhea, he heard none of the signs of mass chaos. Rhea and Seteth must have managed to keep order without him.

Seteth, Bereth, and Rhea rushed forward, the former not showing any hesitation before he wrapped Flayn in an embrace. Bereth hovered anxiously behind him, shooting Jeralt and Byleth a look that Jeralt couldn’t quite place. Rhea too was standing awkwardly a little away from them - doubtless she wanted to do something to Byleth, but the propriety of her position as archbishop (not to mention the presence of roughly a hundred peasants, twenty students, and fifty Knights) kept her from it. The two of them exchanged whispered words, and Jeralt caught Flayn, freed from Seteth’s grasp as he went to check in with Rhea, throwing herself into Bereth’s arms. He let out a weary sigh. What he wouldn’t give for one peaceful moon...

\---

After breakfast on the 12th of Red Wolf Moon, Byleth ascended the stairs of the administrative building with Bereth at her side. He had been strangely clingy since she returned, but still wouldn’t have more than a surface level conversation with her. It was odd, but… Its oddness could wait a little while longer. They were heading to an emergency meeting that Byleth called almost the moment the refugees were led away to sleep in the cathedral overnight, since classes had been cancelled for the day to give the students who snuck off to Remire a chance to rest up. She hoped Claude would be there today, given his talkativeness over the past few days… She let out a small sigh as the two of them reached the second floor. They were about to head into Jeralt’s office, when Rhea’s voice rang out from behind them. “Professor Byleth. Dear child. I have a matter that I must speak to you about. Please, come with me.” Dread building in her chest, Byleth turned to find Rhea staring at her, her serene archbishop’s mask pulled over whatever she was actually thinking.

She gave Bereth a frustrated look, but shrugged her shoulders. “Of course. Lead the way.” Rhea nodded slowly, and led her up the stairs to the third floor. The two of them marched ahead to Rhea’s solar. Rhea sat down at the head of the long table, and motioned to the seat on her right. Byleth sat, and stayed silent. It was far too early for Rhea’s… anything. 

Eventually, Rhea broke the silence. “Byleth. It… It does my heart so much good, knowing that you survived unscathed from the tragedy of Remire village. Such weapons… They are ancient, wielded by Mother’s wicked foes from ages past. I trust you know of whom I speak?” Byleth sat very still for a moment, considering her options. Things were coming to a head, and it might not be unwise to give Rhea a glimpse into their enemy’s ranks now, especially given the nature of the plan that her group had worked on before her journey to Remire. 

“I do. And I know you have suspicion and fear about them… So, allow me to explain who we’re up against. Our enemy is, as you’ve no doubt already guessed, remnants of Agartha. I have taken to calling them ‘Those Who Slither in the Dark’. They had six main generals in Fodlan - Thales, Solon, Bias, Myson, Pittacus, and Chilon. The captive Agarthan we have here is named Anacharsis. He comes from Almyra, where another of their number, Cleobulus, has some sort of base.”

Rhea sank back against her chair, breathing slowly. “I… I see. And… This… the captive said that he had explained some sort of letter from the first one, Thales, to you. Please tell me what he meant by that.” Byleth swore internally, and let out a frustrated sigh. “Well… I intercepted a letter from Thales to an operative of his some time ago. Solon, evidently, went rogue some time ago. He was the one who led the attack at the cathedral in the Horsebow Moon, and he took over a facility beneath Remire. It was this facility that was causing villagers to disappear, you see…” 

She shifted in her chair, weighing what else to say. “In the letter, he gave the operative he was writing to instructions on how to cause the reactor that powered the facility to melt down, likely intending to destroy the facility completely to prevent anything there from leaking out, as well as to eliminate Solon. As for what actually happened… Well, you know as much as I do. It may warm your heart to know that Solon, at least, is dead.” Rhea nodded, and they were both silent for a time.

“When I attempted to speak to him, he would give me nothing. I believe that you… Somehow, you gained use of a power that Mother only ever spoke of. Others of… of our kind, rarely, have had the ability to compel humans to obey them. I observed this on the captive Agarthan.” Byleth flinched - that _definitely_ confirmed what the dream-manakete had told her and Sothis - and looked away, out the window. “You’ve seen what he was like. It was the only way to get him to talk.”

Rhea laid a hand on top of Byleth’s. “You misunderstand, dear child. I was not criticizing you - these creatures know only force, and breaking their wills is hardly a sin. I was merely surprised… You possess power that not even Mother had. I find myself curious, that is all.” Byleth forced herself not to recoil at Rhea’s naked aggression, and shrugged. “If I knew how it worked, I would tell you. It just came to me, like instinct. I did something similar to calm the refugees yesterday, actually, but with less will-breaking…”

Byleth sighed, and looked Rhea in the eye. She frowned, and Rhea began to look a little panicked at the intensity of her gaze. “While we’re on this subject… What the hell is wrong with you? When I went down there to interrogate him, he was naked, and wearing more manacles than I’d ever seen in my life. Prisoners deserve to be treated humanely regardless of who they are - we are better than our enemies.” Rhea shrank back at her rebuke, and looked down in shame. “I…”

Byleth growled in annoyance, and stood. “I don’t want an apology that you don’t really mean, Rhea. I want you to think about this. In the meantime, I need to get going. Father wanted to speak to me. I… Oh, actually, wait. Before I go… I want Jeritza von Hrym released into my custody.”

Rhea balked, and began to protest. Byleth raised a hand, silencing the archbishop before she could object too strongly. “I… I have him under a compulsion, as well. He will not disobey my orders, and he will prove most useful for covert strikes against Those Who Slither in the Dark.” Rhea paused to consider the idea, and after a few moments, nodded her assent. “I will see it done, though he will be your responsibility to keep an eye on. Please be careful, Byleth.” Byleth opened the door to the solar, but turned her head back to look at Rhea. “I always am.”

Making her way back downstairs, Byleth let herself into Jeralt’s office with their group’s customary knock. She quickly scanned the room - Edelgard, Hubert, Dorothea, Dimitri, and Dedue were all in their places on the far couch, Hilda, Flayn, and Seteth were opposite them with Indech and Macuil hovering behind, Bereth was leaned up against the wall, Jeralt was behind his desk, and Yuri was in the corner with Balthus. She let out a small huff - Claude had skipped _again_ , after she thought they’d made actual progress. Hilda looked a little despondent, which was to be expected. Byleth felt slightly guilty for telling her that she would handle Claude, only to have him slip through her fingers, but… She had a meeting to run.

Taking her place next to Bereth, Byleth called the meeting to order. “I’m sure that all of you who weren’t there have questions about the events that unfolded at Remire… So, I’m going to open things up for everyone. Ask away.” Macuil stepped forward, with a growl. “C-- Flayn has already told us about the explosion and its aftermath in private, but… How did this _happen_?” Edelgard suddenly looked distinctly uncomfortable - they hadn’t yet talked about her rather blood-soaked entrance as the Flame Emperor privately, much less announced her identity as such to everyone in the group. Byleth opted to let Edelgard tell her part of it if she wanted, and said “Our infiltration team managed to get the captured villagers out, and kill Solon. Evidently he rigged up the reactor to explode a lot more violently… I should back up and explain - a reactor is a, er… A machine, and it makes energy using dangerous fuel. Originally, we went in with the assumption that the reactor would go through what’s called a meltdown, which would have been a lot less dramatic and noticeable. Solon, however, seems to have anticipated his death, and made sure to turn the milder result we expected into a much more major one. Remire, and the immediate area surrounding it, are most likely destroyed, and uninhabitable.”

Macuil stiffened. He, like Rhea, likely knew exactly what was going on in Remire from past experience. He bowed his head, and stepped back to his spot next to Indech. “I… see. What of the fallout?” Byleth cocked her head. “I’m sorry?” He let out a frustrated huff, and said again “The fallout. When that kind of fuel is involved in an explosion, it sends radiation out into the air. The wind can blow it any which way. Somewhere as far away as Fraldarius could be affected by it.” Byleth grimaced - _that_ was new information. “So… more areas could be rendered uninhabitable?”

Indech stirred. “Well, it would depend on the direction of the wind. During this time of year, the prevailing winds around western Fodlan blow from north to south, and from east to west… So it’s likely that the general path would take it towards the Fangs.” Byleth consulted her internal map of Fodlan - Fodlan’s Fangs was a mountainous region between Ochs and Hevring in the Empire, so named because they looked like the fangs of a roaring dragon on a map. Unlike Fodlan’s Throat, the Fangs were completely uninhabited, but it would be down to sheer luck whether the fallout Macuil mentioned stayed its course into the Fangs, rather than shifting north to Ochs or south to Hevring. She voiced this knowledge, and Edelgard spoke up in response. “Is there nothing we can do? Shouldn’t we warn Baron Ochs or Count Hevring of this?"

Seteth shook his head. “There would be no way to warn them adequately without explaining things about Remire that Those Who Slither in the Dark would expect us to be fully ignorant of. Overplaying our hand here could prove disastrous, especially if this was a deliberate attempt by Thales to rid himself of a contingent of Church forces, rather than Solon’s meddling.” Dorothea stood up, her eyes flashing with anger. “But the people in those towns are in _danger!_ We can’t just leave them to their fate because it might tip off these slithering assholes!” Seteth looked ever so slightly caught off-guard by her outburst, but before this devolved into a shouting match, Byleth raised a hand.

“Okay, that’s enough. Dorothea raises a point that I had been considering, myself. The people who live in Ochs and Hevring need to at least be aware of potential danger, if not moved to a safer location. Is there any way we can counteract fallout? Any medicine or magical treatment for it?” The green-haired men in the room all looked down at Flayn, who had her hand to her chin, and her eyes screwed shut. After a moment, her eyes flew open, and she snapped her fingers. “Ah! I have it. There is a compound that used to be produced from mines in Hevring territory, a kind of saltpeter. I am unsure if it is still mined there today, but the rocks that it came from likely have the substance we need… I shall need to speak to Linhardt about it. Hopefully he is at least aware of his family’s mining affairs if they possess alchemical significance.” 

Byleth nodded, not understanding a word of what Flayn was getting at, but trusting that she knew what she was talking about. “Okay. I’ll leave that to you. Yuri - I want you to coordinate with Flayn, and use your network to get Flayn’s medicine to the people of Hevring and Ochs as soon as she can get that straightened out.” The trickster agreed, and after a few minutes more of nothing of substance happening, Byleth called for an end to the meeting. Flayn rushed off to find Linhardt, and to her surprise, Edelgard swept out of the room as well. Bereth mumbled something about meeting Rhea for a status report on the Officer’s Academy, which left Byleth with exactly none of the people she had wanted to talk freely with. She sighed to herself. Perhaps the world wouldn’t fall apart if she took a quick nap…

“Professor? Do you have a moment?”

Byleth snapped back to the present, blinking a few times. Dimitri was staring at her, a look of concern on his face. “Uh… Yes, of course, Dimitri. What do you need?” Dimitri clenched a fist, then slowly unclenched it. “Well… I took time last night to find Marianne, and ensure she knew that I was unharmed from our mission in Remire. While I was with her, she told me that some strange man had been… _Harassing_ her while we were gone. I want to confront him, but I need your help to do it, just to make sure I don’t, um…” “Kill him?”, Byleth volunteered. Dimitri’s head hung low, and he quietly confirmed her guess.

Byleth laughed coldly. “If it’s the one I’m thinking of, you may have to stop _me_. He’s a complete and utter ass. He does this in every lifetime, though it’s usually a few years from now… It doesn’t make sense that he’s already after her. From the way he talks, I think he’s from the Kingdom. There’s no way Marianne would be known in the Kingdom right now. Unless… oh.” Byleth looked intently at Dimitri, who was refusing to meet her eyes. Dedue, meanwhile, had a small smile on his face, which soon was mirrored on Byleth’s face. “Dedue, has Dimitri been taking official steps with Miss Marianne?” Dimitri whirled around to try to stop his vassal from ratting him out, but Dedue let out a quiet chuckle, and nodded. Dimitri’s shoulders sank ever so slightly before he turned back towards Byleth.

“Please, Professor, you _must_ keep that quiet! None of the Blue Lions know yet, and…” He trailed off, looking away. Over at his desk, Jeralt wore a very amused expression. He stood quickly, and clapped Dimitri on the back. “Well, good on you, kid. The Blaiddyd kings always chose their queens for love… Your father’d be proud of you.” Dimitri looked torn between embarrassment and elation, but settled for bowing slightly to Jeralt. “Thank you for saying that, Sir Jeralt. I… I appreciate your perspective in this matter.” Byleth cocked an eyebrow. “Wait a minute. Does that mean you haven’t even told Lord Rodrigue?” He shook his head, looking very sheepish. Byleth laughed softly. “Dimitri, come on… He’ll be thrilled for you! Don’t worry.” 

Her expression began to harden, and she pushed off of the wall she’d been leaning against. “Now then… Let’s go find a crest scholar.” Dimitri’s small smile vanished, and he nodded somberly. The four of them, Jeralt included, stomped off to go find Marianne. Dimitri explained along the way that she was likely in the stables at this time of morning, and that the crest scholar had been showing up there to harass her if she didn’t get a contingent of students or Knights to keep him away.

As expected, they found Marianne at the stables, and she was indeed being harassed by the rogue crest scholar. The presence of so many imposing people sent him running, and Marianne gave Byleth a small, grateful smile. “Marianne…”, she started, keeping her voice soothing. “Would you talk to me about what that man wanted?”

The timid healer bowed her head. Dimitri went over next to her, and took her hand. She smiled at the contact, and took a deep breath. “Well… He, um… He’s a Crest scholar, and he’s been bothering me because…” She trailed off, suddenly looking unsure of herself even with Dimitri there for support. Byleth spoke up, offering an answer that wouldn’t require her to talk. “He knows which crest you bear, and he’s been harassing you because he thinks you’re connected to the Wandering Beast, right?”

Marianne looked up suddenly, with a frightened look in her eyes. “H-how do you know that?! I’ve been so careful to hide it…” Byleth thought quickly, coming up with a half-truth that would likely work for Marianne. “It’s… since my blessing, I’ve been granted some knowledge that a lot of people don’t have. I know what crest you have, for example… And I can absolutely tell you that whatever notion you have about it being cursed is dead wrong. The Wandering Beast exists because he was a cruel and vindictive person before his transformation, and you are not. I don’t think you have it in you to be, either… So no doom and gloom, okay? Your crest is no more a curse than anyone else’s.” Marianne stayed silent as she processed that revelation. Dimitri stood silently next to her, stroking the back of her hand with his thumb. Eventually, Marianne nodded, meeting Byleth’s gaze again.

“But… Even if that’s so, my parents… They disappeared because of this crest.” Byleth frowned - she had never been able to figure out what had happened to her parents, but it was likely that they were either killed or made to disappear by Those Who Slither in the Dark. Still, it wasn’t as though she could _tell_ Marianne that. In the end, all Byleth could do was shake her head. “I don’t think that’s what happened. Sometimes… sometimes bad things happen to good people, and there’s not always an explanation for it. I know the way your crest works, and it simply isn’t a beacon of misfortune. But, enough about that.”

Marianne looked confused, so Byleth pressed on. “We’re going to silence that scholar once and for all. He wants to harass you about the Wandering Beast? We’ll just have to kill it. That’ll shut him up for good, trust me.” Marianne looked completely shocked, and she turned to Dimitri. He smiled, and nodded at her. “Y… you would do that for me, Professor?” Byleth smiled too. “Whether you’re a part of my house or not, you’re one of my students. And there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for my students, Marianne.” Turning to Dimitri, she added, “Please inform Professor Hanneman of my desire to ride out with the Blue Lions to Edmund territory. I’d like to leave on Friday morning, but it’s really down to his schedule, since I know he’ll want to come along.” Dimitri bowed, still smiling. “You can count on me, Professor.”

\---

That evening, Dimitri caught sight of Edelgard slipping through the gardens, and ran to catch up with her, shouting “El! Wait a moment, please!” A light snow was swirling around them, and if Dimitri had taken a moment to think this over, he would likely have waited until they’d both gotten under cover or inside - Edelgard was from Adrestia, and people from Adrestia weren’t built for cold weather, even if Garreg Mach had thus far proven far less punishing than Faerghus in winter. To his surprise, Edelgard _did_ stop to wait for him, though not before letting out an exasperated huff and wrapping her arms around herself. He drew close to her, and she fixed him with a gaze that betrayed both annoyance and exhaustion. “Yes, Dimitri? What is it? I was on my way to my quarters.” Dimitri tried to pull an apologetic look onto his face, but his concern was doing a valiant job at keeping any other expression off of it. Giving up on that, he sighed, and took off his cloak to hand to her. She accepted it wordlessly, wrapping up in the thin fur he’d worn to block the wind.

“I… I’m worried about you, El. After Remire… After the way you--” “Stop.” His eyes widened, and Edelgard looked away, down towards the ground. “Dimitri… I don’t want to talk about Remire right now. I’m exhausted, and… I just don’t.” He shook his head, pressing gently. “I understand that you’re exhausted, of course, but you were _covered_ in blo--” Edelgard grabbed hold of his wrist, squeezing tightly. 

“Dimitri. Please. Not here, and not now. It’s freezing out, and I’m tired...”

He sighed deeply, and felt his shoulders drop a little. “I… Okay. I don’t want to force you to talk about this if you aren’t ready, but… The biggest mistake that people made around me after the Tragedy of Duscur was _not_ talking to me about it. I don’t… I want to be there for you, like family should.” Edelgard scoffed, but loosened her grip on his wrist. “…I suppose. I hardly have a picture of what family is supposed to look like anymore. If… If you would give me some time to decompress, and to sleep, then I would be willing to have this conversation with you. But not before.” 

Dimitri nodded enthusiastically. “I understand. I will give you the space you need… And I am sorry for pressing you to talk like that. It was wrong of me.” Edelgard let a faint smile show on her face for a moment, and shook her head. “Your heart was in the right place, at least. I appreciate you respecting my boundaries. Now, if you will excuse me, I really am exhausted.” She started to remove his cloak, but he shook his head. “You need it more than I do.” She smiled wider, then turned and began to walk away. Dimitri called after her “Sleep well”, and then she was gone.

“Well, that was pathetic.”

Dimitri didn’t even need to turn to know that Felix had, at some point, come up behind the two of them. The drawl in his voice was distinct enough, but the way he crafted a sentence left no room for doubt either. Dimitri sighed. “Felix. It’s rather impolite to eavesdrop.”

The raven-haired swordsman came around a hedge, his arms crossed. “It’s hardly eavesdropping if you were in public.” Dimitri shrugged. “I suppose that’s fair enough. Did you need something?” Felix stood silently for a moment, then nodded sharply. “Wanted to talk to you about Remire. Our team never saw that ‘Solon’ guy once in that place, which was like nothing I'd _ever_ seen before, by the way. Then, after Petra and I got sent off to the surface, this ‘Flame Emperor’ shows up out of nowhere, holding his severed head? And then the whole damn village explodes? It’s suspicious, to say the least.”

Dimitri frowned, and mirrored his friend’s pose as he crossed his own arms. “If you have something to say, then say it. It’s unlike you to dance around something like this.” Felix let out a small huff, but nodded. “Edelgard was nowhere to be seen until after the Flame Emperor left. She showed back up covered in blood, just like that Flame Emperor. She showed up _without_ her silver axe, which she’d had going into the mission, and yet she never entered combat once while I was with her. Nothing about it adds up… Unless Edelgard is hiding something.”

Dimitri stood very still. Felix was unwaveringly sharp, so it was unsurprising that he had caught onto Edelgard's other identity, especially after the revelation the Flame Emperor had given them all… Still, Edelgard’s secrets weren’t Dimitri’s to give away. Yet at the same time, he couldn’t exactly lie, either, could he? Felix was one of his oldest friends, and despite his brash attitude, they had a deep bond. Letting out a frustrated sigh, Dimitri shrugged his shoulders.

“Felix… You’ve already made up your mind on this. I know you, and I know how you think. My speaking of things that aren’t mine to say doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. All that I will say on this matter for now is that I would ask you to trust me. Nothing nefarious is going on here - I give you my word.”

Felix closed his eyes, likely weighing his options. His knuckles turned white as he gripped hard on the pommel of his Academy saber, until he suddenly, unexpectedly, released it. He opened his eyes, and stared hard into Dimitri’s own, icy blue meeting amber. After a moment or two, he looked away, and scoffed. “Fine. Keep your secrets. I’ll trust you for now, but you had better not be lying to me, Dimitri. Otherwise, I’ll--”

“W-what?” Dimitri stared at Felix in shock, causing the swordsman to narrow his eyes. “What? Why are you looking at me like that? You’ve heard me threaten you before. Don’t act like this is new.” Dimitri shook his head. “It’s not that… It’s just… You… You called me ‘Dimitri’.”

Felix almost instantly flushed crimson, and he turned away from Dimitri. “I… Well… I… Fuck you, it’s your damn name! It’s not like I’d forgotten it while you were off being a boar for a few years…” He sighed. With his back still turned, he scuffed the ground with his boot. After a moment of silence, he spoke again, in a low voice. “I believe in the Princess’ dream. And I trust that there’s some semblance of who you were before in you now. You’re still a damn boar, don’t get me wrong. But, you… Maybe you’ve filed those tusks down a little, or something. I don’t fucking know, I’m not a poet. I… Oh for the love of the goddess. I’m going to say this _one time_ , and that’s it, so listen up.” Dimitri stood very still, too shocked to respond.

“I’m worried about her, and I’m worried about her pulling _you_ back into what you were. You’ve just started to come back to us, and… I don’t want to see either of you turn into monsters. That’s all.” Without waiting for a response, Felix stormed off, though the tomato-red tips of his ears still gave away his embarrassment at being in this situation. In spite of himself, Dimitri smiled. Though he was talking to little more than air now, he added, softly, “Thank you, Felix. I won’t. Neither of us will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before we get into the actual chapter notes, I have a question. The next few events in the story are going to be much more minor in scale - Byleth is going to be swamped in paralogues, just like in a recruitment-heavy run of Three Houses. Please leave a comment saying whether you would like to have these in smaller, bite-sized (comparatively) chapters, or one or two *big* chapter(s). The next big story events don't start up until midway through the Ethereal Moon, for what it's worth. Okay, on with the regularly-scheduled end notes.
> 
> \---
> 
> me: "Byleth you shouldn't use weird dragon compulsion powers on hapless refugees, that's irresponsi--"  
> Byleth: "haha crest of flames go brrrrr"
> 
> Byleth hacked her spell list to give herself the Torch spell that was programmed into Three Houses but never used because torches as an item do the same thing without taking up a spell slot. Technically a miniature sun is *kind of* like a torch, if you think about it.
> 
> Flayn is talking about caliche, the sedimentary rocks that (at least in Chile) have historically been sources of minerals that contain iodine. We're never told exactly what Hevring looks like besides that it's mountainous and that they mine there, so I'm going to assume they've got those rocks. Fun fact - there's actually two main kinds of saltpeter. Potassium nitrate is the one more commonly understood when the word is used, while Chile saltpeter, which came from caliche mining, is made of sodium nitrate.
> 
> I changed some of the details of Marianne's paralogue. The crest scholar has been hounding her since her parents' disappearance and Byleth only found out post-timeskip? Nah. He's a researcher looking into Maurice's Crest from the Kingdom, and he found her early because Dimitri made official overtures to Margrave Edmund to court Marianne.
> 
> Felix Hugo Fraldarius. I love my prickly swordsman, what can I say? Incidentally, he's going to play a larger role over in Umber Snow than he's gotten to here, which I'm jazzed about. There will *probably* be an update of that before the next chapter of this if y'all opt for the big chapter(s) approach.
> 
> \---
> 
> So, I wanted to make the nuclear stuff plausible, but Fodlan being weirdly compressed on maps makes it difficult. Let's assume for a moment that Fodlan horses can achieve a consistent running walk gait, moving at around 15 mph (~24 kph). If they initially left Garreg Mach at 1pm and arrived an hour's easy ride from Remire a little before nightfall in early November, that would mean they rode for about four hours if sunset started around 5:30pm. At a constant pace, that would mean Remire is about 60 miles (~95 kilometers) minimum from Garreg Mach. They had to cross through mountains, so the distance is actually going to be less than that, but we'll use that as a benchmark. According to data from the harrowing https://nuclearsecrecy.com/nukemap/ resource, a 1 megaton nuclear explosion at ground level would cause significant burns as far out as 12.5 miles (~20 kilometers). Since a horse's gallop can reach average speeds of 25-30 mph (~40-48 kph), we can easily assume that the Knights, students, and refugees were all out of the thermal damage range, which extends out twice as far as the explosive pressure's damage range, and about ten times as far as the radiation damage range. So they would be out of danger from the actual explosion - it's the fallout that was the only danger for them when the reactor exploded. Depending on the direction of the wind, fallout from an explosion with a 1 megaton yield could extend out as far as 240 miles (~386 kilometers), though at its most extreme range it's hardly more radiation in an hour than most people receive in a typical day. Still concerning, of course, but our characters are *fine*. (And all this data is a little skewed anyway - the Remire facility was underground, not at ground level, and there's no way to model that out.)


	43. Forgotten Hero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth gets the Eagles ready for the rest of the year, makes some new plans, and heads out with the Blue Lions to clear Marianne from the cloud of suspicion hanging over her.

The morning of the 13th of Red Wolf Moon came bright and early. A chill was in the air, and a little of last night’s snow had managed to stick here and there, peppering the lawns and hedges of the monastery with splotches of white. As Byleth made her way to the classrooms, she spotted Cyril hard at work spreading small chunks of salt along the walkways. She took her place at her desk, and soon after, her Eagles filed into the room. Once the bells announced that it was time to begin (and Linhardt slunk in a moment or two after them), Byleth cleared her throat.

“Well, everyone. I have good news. You are all, as of now, ready for graduation.” Excited murmurs broke out around the room, but Byleth only gave her words a moment to settle in before she continued. “However, there _is_ still more room for improvement. Almost all of you could continue onwards in your education, and pursue master-level certification. I mentioned shortly after the Battle of the Eagle and Lion that I would have recommendations for you, and I apologize for taking this long to get them to you. We’ve all had a pretty busy few days.” Several of the Eagles winced - they weren’t quite over the shock of the explosion at Remire, as she had suspected.

“To that end, I’m going to give my personal recommendations out now, starting from the end of our roster and working back up to the beginning. Hapi, you’re up first.”

Hapi looked a little startled to be going at all, much less going first. “Are you sure about this, Blue? I don’t really study all that much… And I mean, I’m fine being a valkyrie.” Byleth nodded, smiling at Hapi’s decision to keep her replacement nickname despite it being somewhat ill-fitting now. “That’s fine with me, Hapi, but this is more just in case you ever wanted to pursue another option.” She tented her fingers, thinking over Hapi’s skillset. “Technically speaking, you don’t even need to go for a master’s certification - valkyrie is unusual enough for you to do anything you might want with it. But, if you’re still looking to improve, I would suggest brushing up on your lance work and going for a dark knight certification. You’d have to get used to wearing armor, but we could set you up with a poleaxe and give you the best of both worlds - I know how much you like axes, after all.” Hapi looked intensely at her for a moment, then nodded. “I’ll think about it.”

Next up was Constance. Byleth hummed for a moment, then said “Well… Like Hapi, this is all strictly voluntary - you don’t need more credentialing, in my view. Also, there’s also just not really anywhere to go for a dark flier that builds off of your skillset. You could always push towards gremory certification just to _have_ it, but I know you love your pegasus too much to give up flying for good. We could also see about getting you into falcon knight. From what I understand, some foreign falcon knights act as something like aerial bishops, but that would require a lot of extra lance training, and some sword training as well.” Constance, unlike Hapi, immediately responded back to her. “I shall study for gremory, then! A peerless magical researcher like myself must achieve the pinnacle of magical certification, after all!” Byleth nodded, smiling at her confidence.

“Right then… Next, Flayn.” The green-haired girl bounced in her seat excitedly. “My recommendation for you would be also to go for falcon knight, and since your lance technique is already solid, it would only require a little more work to polish up, plus some sword tutoring. Otherwise, gremory would be a solid option as well.” Flayn hummed for a moment, but the gleam in her eyes told Byleth she had a course of action in mind. “I shall have to go over it with my brother, of course, but I think that this foreign falcon knight would be ideal for me!” Byleth smiled, certain that Seteth would approve if she spoke to him before she left for Edmund territory.

She then turned to Lysithea. “Lysithea, my recommendation for you has always been gremory, and that hasn’t changed. But, if you’d be interested in alternatives… I do have a couple other options you could consider.” The white-haired girl perked up, tilting her head to the side. “If you’d like, I could tutor you in swordsmanship, or in brawling. Combined with your magical skills, you could easily qualify for mortal savant or war cleric, if you didn’t want to stay purely magic-based. It’s up to you.” Lysithea put a hand to her chin and closed her eyes for a moment. Opening them back up, she said “I… I’ll have to give that some significant thought, Professor.” Byleth nodded. “It’s a pretty out-there change, so don’t feel like you need to give me an answer immediately. And I won’t be disappointed if you decide to stick to the plan, either. So there’s no pressure.”

Next up was Leonie. The orange-haired paladin was practically vibrating in place, but before she could say anything, Byleth cleared her throat. “Alright Pinelli… Listen up. You’re an excellent rider, as I’ve said before. You’ve also got keen eyes, and you’re decent enough with a bow. With some work on your part, you could take those skillsets and combine them for a bow knight certification. Having that kind of versatility would serve you well as a mercenary.” Leonie nodded fervently. “That’s exactly what I’ve been meaning to do! I’ll make you proud!” She smiled at Leonie’s exuberance, then moved on to Petra.

The Brigidian princess had been watching Byleth carefully as she spoke to the other Eagles, and smiled warmly at her now that it was her turn. “Well Petra, I have to say that I’m pleased with your stamina training thus far. I want you to keep pushing at that. Believe it or not, it actually ties in with my recommendation for you, as well. I think you would be a fantastic wyvern lord, and I know that Brigid has a proud history of wyvern riding, so it would win you respect from the people waiting back home too. You’re decently proficient at every major melee weapon, so that part of it won’t be too much of a hassle… I want you to train with axes from here on, and start taking on some sky watch duties. With a little effort, you’ll qualify in no time.” Petra nodded, a small smile on her face. “I will rise to it, Professor!”

Dorothea sat next to Petra, an easy smile on her face. Byleth hummed audibly, thinking over her options. The most obvious one was to continue on a magical path, but Dorothea was so versatile that a purely magical path felt like a waste. Nodding to herself, Byleth decided to simply lay all the options out for her - Dorothea was an adult, and could pick for herself. “With your magical abilities, it would only take a little more work on your White magic skills for you to pass the gremory certification, which you would be fantastic at. Though at the same time, gremories typically don’t fight with a sword, which might feel a little uncomfortable for you. To that end, if you brushed up on your swordplay, you could easily qualify for mortal savant certification, or even trickster certification. Either one would be a great fit for you, and combine a couple of your talents. Finally, there is one other option, though there’s no guarantee that you’ll be able to get it, since you don’t take a certification exam for this.”

Dorothea looked curiously at her, and Byleth smiled wider. “In the Ethereal Moon, Garreg Mach hosts a ball for the students of the Officer’s Academy. Two weeks before the ball is a competition called the White Heron Cup, where the three houses compete for the honor of their representative achieving certification as a dancer. I’ve already decided to choose you as our representative, so if you win, you could easily slot into that role. And there’s nothing to say that you can’t get other master certifications on top of it, if you did decide that that’s what you wanted.” Dorothea’s eyes sparkled, and she practically sang out “Dancer! Oh, yes! That’s exactly what I want! I’ll make you proud, Professor!” Byleth chuckled at her enthusiasm. “I know you will.”

Byleth cleared her throat, and moved along to Bernadetta, who was seated next to Hubert. She gave Byleth a shy smile, which Byleth returned. “Well Bernie - first of all, I want to say how proud I am of you. You’ve really grown a lot over the course of this year, and it’s not over yet. As for my recommendation, it’s definitely still bow knight. Your lance skills are almost up to par for it, and now that Leonie’s in our house, I figure that the two of you can swap skills. Her riding is top notch, as is your archery. There’s also no shame in staying as a sniper, of course, if you didn’t want to change roles. I certainly understand sticking in something that’s comfortable. It’s all up to you, though I would appreciate it if you would help Leonie master the bow either way.” The purple-haired sniper nodded fervently, and squeaked out a “Yes, Professor!” before sinking down into her seat a little. She was still smiling, though, which Byleth counted as a victory. 

Turning next to Caspar, Byleth sighed. This obviously made him nervous, so she quickly flashed a small smile at him, and he looked confused at the sudden change in her expression. “Caspar, Caspar, Caspar… I know we’ve butted heads about your weapon choices in the past, but fortunately, there’s an option at the master level that’s perfect for someone like you. As you are, you could very easily pass war master certification, and from then on you’d be in a position to use an axe and gauntlets interchangeably, and carry both for easy swapping. War masters control the flow of battle around them, and with your instincts and raw strength, you would be an absolute terror in that role. So, that’s what I recommend for you, unless you want to take a crash course in magic to go for war monk.” He shook his head, a toothy grin on his face. “No way, Professor! Magic’s not for me. I’m gonna be a war master!!” She acknowledged his decision, and muttered under her breath “It might even help you stay alive when Holst finds out you’re with his baby sister…” Caspar, thankfully, didn’t catch that remark, and Byleth moved on.

Linhardt was next on her list. He looked as sleepy as ever, though as he realized that Caspar’s time was up, he started to pay slightly more attention. “Well Lin… As far as your recommendation goes… normally, I’d be expected to advise you to pick up a weapon, and perhaps riding skill. But to be completely honest, the way certification works in Fodlan is ridiculous. Other continents have their own gremory equivalents for both men and women; one such example is that of the ‘archsage’. So… I’m prepared to write a detailed defense for you to be able to take on gremory certification. If Lady Rhea doesn’t accept it, then I’ll find a way to get you a shot at some sort of archsage certification. Would that be something of interest to you?” He thought for a moment, then nodded. “To be honest, I’ve never been all that concerned about what’s ‘proper’ for men. I’d be fine being a male gremory, if you’re going to go to all that trouble… Thank you, by the way.”

Byleth smiled, making a mental note to start work on her arguments to Rhea soon.

She turned to Ferdinand, who was seated next to Petra and Dorothea. She took great delight in watching as his noble bearing and patience had begun to slip from excitement at it finally being his turn. “Ferdinand. You’re already quite the skilled paladin, so you don’t necessarily need to advance if you don’t want to. But, as far as options for advancement go… You could realistically take your talents toward great knight certification, though you’d need to work on your axe skills, and get more accustomed to heavy armor. However, I think a better fit would instead be for you to work on White magic and become a holy knight. Offensive magic likely wouldn’t be your forte, but you can better protect people from horseback if you have healing and warding in your toolbox. Give it some thought, and get back to me.” He nodded, already looking pensive as Byleth moved onto Hubert.

The Eagles’ resident dark bishop had somewhat lost a bit of his intimidating air as of late, especially since he refused to take off the flower Bernadetta had crocheted for him. He looked happier these days, which made Byleth’s heart feel a little lighter as well. “Hubert. You’re a very skilled mage, and your talents lie almost exclusively in this realm. However, my recommendation for you, rather than trying to learn the sword for mortal savant, or work on White magic more for gremory, is to work on your riding skills. Dark knight would suit you perfectly, and give you the kind of mobility you lack right now. I can also check with Anna in the marketplace about hunting down a magical lance. Fodlan doesn’t have any commonly available, but other continents have made a few. Your best bet might be something like a shockstick, or a bolt naginata, which is a type of lance with a curved single edge. Think it over, and get back to me.” Hubert nodded, but said nothing. The idea of being a dark knight to Ferdinand’s holy knight was likely at war with the strategic part of his mind that knew it was a good move, and Byleth decided that he needed a little time to himself. 

Coming at last to Edelgard, Byleth put a hand to her chin. She truly had nothing for Edelgard, as her Twin-Headed Eagle armor would provide a unique opportunity for her as the Emperor to do things other class certifications wouldn’t. She also was somewhat concerned still - Edelgard had been steadfastly avoiding talking with her about Remire, and that was stressing her out. Finally, she gave up. “Well, Edelgard, for your recommendation… Honestly, I don’t think any of the master classes are a good fit for you. None of Fodlan’s common certifications involve heavy armor and magic, which is a shame. You’ve made things work so far, but nothing we have available to us right now will give you the synergy you could use to take full advantage of all of your strengths. I’ve read about heavily-armored battlemages known as “barons” from other lands, but I doubt I could convince Rhea to make an exception for you to slip into something like mortal savant on the basis of their example. It’s just too much of a gap to bridge... Luckily for you, master certification doesn’t matter in your case. You’re going to be the Emperor, and you can simply continue on in what you’ve been doing. That said, if you’d like, I can get you some material on baron training techniques.” Edelgard nodded enthusiastically at that, and Byleth made another mental note to actually look those up, some time.

Her recommendations complete, Byleth had one more task to take care of. “Before I let you go for lunch, since we’re going to be taking an early lunch today, I have an announcement to make. In light of all of your battlefield experience, and by virtue of not _needing_ to cover much of the material left over since you’ve already lived out what we would be going over in battle, I’m going to officially be swapping this class over to self-directed study. I will, of course, be available here during regular class time whenever I’m at the monastery, though other duties are going to see me away from the monastery from time to time over the next few moons. I’ll also be available for one-on-one training, though you’ll need to sign up for those. I’ll leave a sign-up sheet on the board, and change it out every week. The main exception is next week - I don’t anticipate being available at all, as I’m going to be taking care of some business outside of the monastery.”

Byleth smiled, attempting to assuage the worried looks from some of her Eagles. “I know that this is sudden, and I don’t want you all to worry. You are more than ready for graduation already, and continuing to meet for regular class time would be doing you a disservice. I trust each and every one of you implicitly - you’ve all come a long way from when we first met. Believe in yourselves, like I believe in you.” The bells tolled out eleven, and Byleth let out a sigh. “Well, so much for an early lunch. Anyway, go on, everyone. I’ll have a sign-up sheet ready tomorrow, though no training will actually happen until I’m back after next week. Also: Edelgard, Hubert, Ferdinand, Hapi, and Constance. Would you five stay behind for a moment?”

The five of them rose and walked up to the front of the classroom as the rest of the Black Eagles headed out, likely off to the dining hall. The smell wafting their way was _heavenly_ , and Byleth’s mouth was already watering. “I won’t keep you all for long. Edelgard, Hapi, and Constance, I want you three to be ready for travel tomorrow morning. The reason I’m going to be out next week is because I’ve agreed to travel with the Blue Lions to Edmund territory. There’s… There’s a certain monster roaming the woods out there, and the Lions are going out to slay it. I want you three with me in case the Lions aren’t quite up to the task. We leave tomorrow at dawn from the stables, so have your gear ready when you meet us there. Hubert and Ferdinand, the two of you are in charge of the Black Eagles in mine and Edelgard’s absence. See to any concerns that your classmates have, and try to keep things running smoothly.” Both men looked uncomfortable with the idea of having to work together to lead their fellows, but Edelgard, at least, looked incredibly amused. In the end, they both begrudgingly agreed, and Byleth and the five Eagles went out into the cold, headed for the dining hall.

\---

Early in the evening, Byleth slipped back to her room. She had budgeted just enough time before the main dinner rush to jot all her mental notes down to ensure she wouldn’t forget them, but that plan went right out the window when she noticed that her door was unlocked. Drawing her dagger, she paused for a moment in front of the door, before throwing it open and pouncing into the room. Instead of whatever she had expected, she found Claude, hunched over her desk in the process of writing something. Their eyes met, then his eyes flicked to the dagger in her hand, and he smiled wryly. “Now Teach, if you didn’t want me in here, you’d lock the door better. No need to go drawing steel on an old friend, right?”

Byleth sheathed her dagger with a frown. “What are you doing here, Claude? You can’t just go from avoiding me to showing up in my room unannounced.” Before he answered, she turned and shut her door, casting Muffling almost on reflex. Claude cocked an eyebrow, but managed to contain himself. “Well, truth be told… I came to ask a favor or three.”

He stood up, sealing her inkwell and crumpling up the paper he’d been writing on. “See, a little bird told me that you’re heading out to Edmund territory tomorrow, hunting Marianne’s, uh…” He searched for the word he was looking for, but eventually shook his head. “Well, you know. Anyway, since you’re already going to be in Alliance territory, I was wondering if you’d be willing to lend the Deer a helping hand, for old time’s sake. See, next Friday, the Golden Deer are heading out on our monthly mission. It may sound familiar: we’ve been requested to guard some merchants who’ve been getting attacked by monsters on the trade routes from Gloucester to Riegan. I’m sure you remember who was behind that, right?”

Byleth cast her memory back, and frowned again. “Count Gloucester.” Claude nodded grimly. “We’re actually going to be making a bit of a time of it, since Lorenz got permission to take the house to go hunt down Acheron for doing the same thing his father’s doing once we wrap up guard duty. I had planned on making sure Acheron suffers a little accident, but it turns out that I may not be going after all. Hence why I’m asking you.” 

“Why is _that_ in question? They’re your house, Claude.” Byleth folded her arms, feeling her disapproval mounting.

Claude raised his hands in mock surrender. “True. But I’m a _very_ busy fellow these days, as you well know. I could be inclined to be slightly less busy at times if you’d be willing to help the Deer out in my stead, and maybe not pull your punches on Acheron.” Byleth sighed. “What makes you think I can take the time to trek all the way out to Edmund and back only to turn around and go out with the Golden Deer for _two_ missions immediately after? Time is a finite resource. And murdering a noble, even a minor one, could get me in trouble. We aren’t at war yet.”

Claude smiled. “First of all, that’s bullshit that time is a finite resource for you, and we both know it. And second, I’m not asking you to go all the way back to Garreg Mach. Just send your little Lion cubs back without you once you’re done, and head south. There’s this charming little inn that the Golden Deer stay their first night out at every time they head out on a mission right inside Gloucester territory. You can meet them there. As for your last point… It’s _Acheron_. Trust me when I say that no one who matters is going to give a damn. Besides, you already stole the Deer’s other healer. If Manuela’s busy on the opposite side of the battlefield from Acheron, well... ”

Byleth stood silently for a moment, thinking it over. It wasn’t the worst plan she’d ever heard. Helping Lorenz in particular would mean that she would be in a position to get her hands on Thyrsus, and she _did_ feel bad about how much she had ignored the Golden Deer students in this lifetime. Acheron was a little dastard of a man, and Claude had a point when he said no one would miss him… After a moment more of deliberation, she let out a long sigh. “Alright, Claude, I’ll help. But I do want you to pass on a couple messages for me while I’m gone.”

\---

Edelgard stifled a yawn as she strapped a few extra axes onto her horse. She and Hapi were off to one side of the stables, quietly preparing to head out with the Blue Lions. The merry band of Faerghans were _far_ too boisterous for this time of day, in her opinion. While Edelgard could appreciate the value of an early morning training session, she did those in silence. The look of annoyance on Hapi’s face let her know that at least one other person found their fellow students to be entirely too much before the sun had even had a chance to rise. Constance, it seems, was not of this persuasion, as she, Mercedes, and Annette were carrying on with a high degree of enthusiasm.

Still, this wasn’t all bad. Fighting alongside her new comrades in the Blue Lions would help to strengthen their ties to her, which would in turn aid Byleth, which would help her rid Fodlan of the corrupt systems that kept its people bound. She simply had to keep focused on that, and not get distracted, or let Dimitri corner her again to ask her about Remire. Remire. _Remire_.

She bit back a curse as her mind began to replay the events of their raid on the Epsilon facility. With sheer force of will, she pushed it back, but given the look of concern on Hapi’s face, she had evidently not kept her face neutral as she did so. Hapi, thankfully, was not the kind of person to press too much into someone else’s business, but even so… She _had_ to be better than this. She let out a small sigh, and clambered up onto her horse. Mounting a horse was never her strongest suit, and she certainly wasn’t able to do it as fluidly and gracefully as, say, Ingrid, but Edelgard was proud of how far she had come in equestrian matters. Before the Officer’s Academy, she had certainly known how to ride a horse in theory, but she avoided actually doing so as much as humanly possible.

Byleth came into view, her green hair still a little damp from her morning bath. She walked over to the two of them, leading a horse of her own, and jumped from a standing position up onto the saddle. Edelgard immediately tried to find the buckles and straps holding Hapi’s saddle in place utterly fascinating, but it was too late. The redheaded valkyrie had not stopped watching her face for a while, and Edelgard noticed a rather triumphant look on her face as she fought very hard to control her expressions. She could not stop herself from _reacting_ when Byleth insisted on doing such… such _absurd_ things, like gracefully mounting a horse in a single leap, or cleaving a demonic beast in half with a flick of her wrist, or-- no. No, no, she could _not_ afford to start thinking about the end to the celebration after the Battle of the Eagle and Lion right now!

Suddenly, Dimitri’s voice rang out in the stable yard. “Coming, Professor? We’re ready to set off if you three are.” Edelgard opened her eyes, and stared off towards her brother. He looked a bit haggard, and Edelgard wondered for a moment how much he’d been able to sleep lately. She knew he suffered from poor sleep and nightmares, like she did, but… Well, perhaps she would be able to check on him during this trip. He smiled at her, then turned back to rally his housemates. Together, their party rode out of the front gates, southward bound. 

\---

The Blue Lions, their Black Eagle escorts included, had made fairly decent time. It was a journey quite similar to their previous trip into Alliance territory, swinging up through Daphnel territory. They even stayed at the same inn as last time, and the innkeeper was delighted to have such a large party coming through again. Dimitri didn’t know _quite_ what to make of it, but it seemed to keep Marianne from fretting about their mission. She was always a quiet person, but the closer they got to Edmund territory, the quieter she became. She told him not to worry, as she sat up in front of the fire late into the night, but how could he not? Marianne had been a source of light and hope in his life… To give her even a modicum of the peace she had brought him burned in his chest brighter than anything he’d known since Edelgard gave his desire for vengeance a focus. Byleth forced them both to go to bed, but as he drifted off to sleep, he resolved himself. Marianne would smile and laugh again. He would do anything to make that a reality.

Late in the afternoon on the 15th of Red Wolf Moon, their party arrived at the Edmund manor. They had sent word ahead with Ingrid that morning, and the Margrave welcomed them to his territory with open arms. Dimitri had not met the man in person yet, only corresponding with him by letter. He knew that Marianne was only a distant relative, so he wasn’t surprised by the lack of familial resemblance between them. Even so, he seemed to care for Marianne, in his own way. If Marianne possessed _any_ other Crest, he imagined that their relationship would be quite a bit more strained. He suppressed a shudder of horror at the thought of a Marianne who had to suffer through that hell, like his friends from Faerghus had.

He, Marianne, Byleth, Professor Hanneman, and Edelgard retired to the margrave’s study after dinner. The margrave got down a bottle of smooth brandy, and poured them all a drink. Surprisingly, Marianne finished hers quite fast, leaving the rest of them to sip.

“Now then… I assume you are here with a plan of attack?” The margrave looked to Hanneman, who politely shook his head. “Ever so sorry, but It was actually Professor Byleth who tracked down the rumors of the Wandering Beast’s location. As such, she is heading this mission. I am merely here because I would not let my students go off to face battle without me.” The margrave frowned for a moment, but apparently accepted that answer as he turned to Byleth. “Then, your plan, Miss?”

A shadow crossed Byleth’s face for a moment, and she met his eyes with an icy glare. “Actually, my _proper_ title would be 'Your Holiness'. But since we’re friends, Margrave, you may call me ‘Professor Eisner’.” Edelgard choked into her drink, though she managed to pass off her laughter as simply taking a pull wrong. The margrave paled, and began to scramble to cover his condescension. “Oh! I-I… Please forgive me! Word had of course reached us in the Alliance that one of the professors at the Officer’s Academy had received a blessing from the Goddess, but… I had not realized that you were the one. Would you be kind enough to explain your plan, then, Professor Eisner?”

Byleth let a small smile slip onto her face, and began to explain.

\---

Their party arrived in the deepest part of the forest at around ten bells the following day. The scouted forward carefully. Hapi was on full alert - despite Linhardt breaking part of her curse that caused her to summon monsters with an idle sigh, she still had a strange affinity for beasts of all shapes and sizes. She soon signaled that there was a small horde of them ahead, no more than twenty in number, but of varying strengths and natures. Byleth gave the order to have weapons at the ready, and grimaced as she saw the tell-tale glow of the Blue Lions’ Relics in the fog that blanketed the forest around them. Luin, Crusher, the Aegis Shield, the Lance of Ruin… Their red glowing light guided them further and further in, until Hapi hissed out “Stop!”

A hulking shape lumbered towards them in the fog, but halted about twenty paces away. A rough, strangled voice called out from the fog: “My comrades..? Have you come at last to grant me rest?” When none of them answered, the shape drew closer, and the scarred, broken form of the Wandering Beast emerged into the eerie glow. Bones peeked out from its skin, and deep gouges scored all the armor plating on its body. Its crazed yellow eyes roved over them, and a guttural growl emerged from its throat. “You… You are not my comrades. Yet you bear their weapons. Who _are_ you?” Then, it caught sight of Byleth. “That sword! It’s the sword of the king! If he no longer bears it… then… are you the one who can liberate me?”

It bellowed out a horrible, earsplitting roar, then focused on them. “My blood is roused… Nothing will stop me now, from feasting upon your flesh and blood! COME!” More shrieks and howls sounded around them in the fog, and Byleth shouted “Everyone, cover your eyes!” as she formed another giant ball of light, hurling it into the trees above and burning away the fog. Giant wolves and draconic beasts were closing in on them, and with another shout, their party divided up, each of the Relic-wielders forming a small squad. Byleth led Dimitri and Marianne herself, and they galloped towards the Wandering Beast. 

Sylvain, Felix, and Hapi charged off towards some of the draconic beasts that were flanking around to the north. One of Hapi’s Death spells caught a wolf beast that angled around to flank them in midair, and it fell to the ground in a bloody heap. Sylvain and Felix were unmatched in their ferocity, and Felix even managed to surprise Byleth by casting several Thoron spells from his off hand even as he guided his mount and slashed at less armored spots on the beasts. The Lance of Ruin was wet with blood, its crest-fueled power piercing these lesser beasts’ armored hides as if they were made of paper. 

Ingrid, Edelgard, Constance, and Mercedes shot south on their pegasi and Edelgard’s horse, and they began to fell beasts along the flank with precision. Ingrid directed her pegasus to duck and dive to and fro, Luin cutting a burning path across the sky. She brained a wolf, pulling the Relic lance back for another strike effortlessly. Mercedes, riding on the back of Constance’s black pegasus. The two of them hurled spells left and right from their vantage point in the air, Mercedes favoring Thunder magic while Constance provided a surprising degree of accuracy with Sagittae bolts. Edelgard, meanwhile, cantered around between the two of them, her axe cutting deep wounds into draconic beasts that had been wounded by the soaring sages. As a new group of wolf beasts prowled closer, she called on the power of the Crest of Flames, casting a massive Bolganone that trapped the approaching wolves in a whirling inferno.

Annette turned back the way they came, and in short order had flattened the skull of a wolf beast with Crusher while Ashe, Dedue, and Hanneman covered her back. She looked proud of her power, and wiped some sweat from her brow with the back of her armored gauntlet. Their group was the only infantry among them, so Ashe was able to scramble up a nearby tree. Perched on the branch, he began firing off arrow after arrow, most of them finding purchase in the soft spots the demonic beasts presented him - eyes, armpits, bellies, and the backs of knees. Dedue hung back, keeping beasts away from his tree. He managed to beat a few of them down with his shield alone, only for Hanneman to finish them in a burst of Ragnarok. The Blue Lions’ professor otherwise stuck close to Annette, and the two worked their way across the battlefield in a series of loud, colorful explosions.

As Byleth, Dimitri, and Marianne rode their mounts in a tight circuit around the Wandering Beast itself, ducking and dodging away from its furious strikes it howled again, leaving one of her ears bleeding from the sheer power in its voice. It swiped at her and Marianne, but a combination of her Aura and Marianne’s Fimbulvetr forced it to dodge backwards, dirt and stone shooting out from beneath its wicked claws. Unfortunately, this spooked Dorte. The horse reared back, and Marianne fell to the ground, scraping her arm on one of the stirrups. The Wandering Beast paused, sniffing the air, then locked eyes on her as it smelled her blood. “You… You bear our Crest! Why have you come here?” 

Before Marianne could respond, Dimitri leapt from his horse into the air, driving his silver lance deep into the flank of the beast. It let out an almighty screech and batted him with its tail. He careened into a nearby tree, landing in a crumpled heap beneath it. Marianne cried out in anguish at the sight of him lying there unmoving, and Byleth felt the world shift ever so slightly as the blue-haired woman called upon her crest. As her blood surged, she closed her eyes tightly, before unleashing a colossal Aura directly at the lance still embedded in the beast’s flank. It howled in agony, then sank to the ground, too weak to rise again. At the sound of its final roar, the other monsters began to disperse, though the Blue Lions had resolved to kill as many demonic beasts as they could when they met with Margrave Edmund, and they all rode off to give chase for a few minutes before reconvening. 

To Byleth’s relief, each group had managed well enough, and what few injuries there were were tended to by Mercedes in short order. Marianne ran over to Dimitri, helping him to a sitting position while healing light poured from her hands. Dimitri raised a gauntleted hand to her cheek, and mumbled “But, your arm…”, but she would not be dissuaded. She continued to heal him until the light gradually faded - her magical power was spent. She shuddered, falling to her knees. 

The Wandering Beast groaned in pain, and Byleth sighed wearily. “We need to finish this. We shouldn’t leave him to suffer.” Dimitri laid a hand on Marianne’s, the two of them exchanged whispered words that Byleth made a point not to overhear. After a brief moment, Marianne let out a small sigh, and the two of them stood up unsteadily. Together, she, Byleth, and Dimitri walked over to the fallen creature. Marianne looked down at the Wandering Beast with a grim look on her face.

It fixed an eye on her as they drew up to its side, but made no attempt to attack them further. Byleth raised the Sword of the Creator above her head, bracing herself and waiting for Marianne’s approval. The beast groaned again, and began to speak in slow, labored breaths. ”Well done… Finally, this nightmare of a thousand years is at its end. O inheritor of my Crest… if this body is to decay, then the sword… I leave it to you…” Marianne took a deep breath, and nodded resolutely. Byleth brought the Sword of the Creator down in a blazing arc, cleaving armor, bone, and sinew alike.

As its bestial form began to dissolve, the three of them soon caught sight of an ancient corpse, little more than taut skin stretched over bones, clutching a jagged, single-edged sword. Byleth sucked in a breath, then laid a hand on Marianne’s shoulder. “That sword is called Blutgang. I suppose it would be yours by birthright anyway, even if its previous owner hadn’t given it to you. What do you want to do, Marianne?”

Marianne picked the blade up, her face lit by the glow as it touched the skin of her hand. She wavered for a moment, then shook her head. “I… I don’t want this. Even if what you’ve told me about my Crest is true, to use a weapon like this… I couldn’t do that. Would you… could I ask you to take it for me? I know you would know what to do with it.” Byleth nodded solemnly, and closed her hand over the hilt. She whispered the name that sprung to her mind unbidden, saying “ _Hama, welcome home._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Both fics updating at the same time? The hell you say! Go check out the next chapter of Umber Snow, too, if you'd be so kind. Link here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29216721/chapters/72362463
> 
> Hey did y'all know that there's a character limit in Google Docs? I do now! Turns out that this fic is now too long for a single doc, which is buckwild. RIP First Doc, which made it to 496 pages before hitting that limit.
> 
> If this fic were written in Japanese, Hapi's adjusted nickname for Byleth would actually still work, and I find that very funny. (The word for "blue" in Japanese also covered most shades of green for a long time, and still does overlap even though "green" does have its own distinct word now.)
> 
> A streamer I follow had a war cleric Lysithea - her punching The Immaculate One for the kill at the end of Crimson Flower remains my favorite Three Houses moment ever.
> 
> Gender locks are dumb and the best thing Fates did was get rid of them. Also, I *live* for Linhardt using the gremory animation set in Three Houses (see here: https://twitter.com/supersemantic/status/1352527452451393536))
> 
> Byleth knows that Hubert often ends up favoring the Arrow of Indra, but in lieu of that, she's out for another electric lance. She might also find Petrine's flame lance, who knows?
> 
> Geez I'm gonna need to step my Edeleth game up here soon. The ball is coming up and you better believe these idiots are gonna smooch... maybe. Actually probably not *at* the ball, because that'd still be teacher/student by a technicality. But soon.
> 
> Byleth lying to put people in their place is something I always feel a little conflicted about, but writing nobles as patriarchal assholes that Byleth can shame into behaving wins out almost every time. She's completely bullshitting about the "Your Holiness" thing, by the way, although it isn't out of the realm of possibility for someone canonized as a saint.
> 
> And hey, that's Marianne's paralogue battle done. It's... short. Most of these paralogue battles are short, actually. Marianne's battle gets a lot of shit online, but it seriously ends as soon as you kill the Wandering Beast. You don't *have* to fight a single other demonic beast if you don't want to, though you'd be crazy to pass up free materials from breaking all those shields.
> 
> Hama is the Old English variant of Heime, the Germanic folk hero who, according to legend, wielded a sword called Blutgang (literally "blood flow") until it was shattered in a duel.


	44. Tolling Bells

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Blue Lions celebrate and recover from their battle in Edmund, Byleth meets up with the Golden Deer, and the Golden Deer fight soldiers harassing merchants on the high roads of Gloucester territory before receiving dire news.

The triumphant Lions made their way back to the Edmund manor, arriving just before sundown. The margrave was beyond ecstatic at their success, and threw a feast for them. They celebrated, drank, and ate to their hearts’ content, until the margrave called Byleth, Hanneman, Marianne, and Dimitri into his study once again. His good mood was thankfully still present - Dimitri had been concerned for a moment that one of his classmates had done something to offend the man. Instead, he congratulated them once more, and thanked them for their hard work. Turning to Marianne, he paused for a moment, then sank down into his chair with a weary sigh.

“I understand that, despite recovering Blutgang, you’re not taking it up. Is that so?” Dimitri couldn’t find any malice in his voice, but he was instantly more on edge - he had heard far too many seemingly innocuous conversations between his friends and their parents go wrong to be comfortable. Byleth also seemed a bit on edge, which reinforced Dimitri’s instinct.

Marianne, however, seemed to be more at peace than she had ever been. She nodded, and even managed to look the margrave in the face. “It is. That sword… I don’t think that it would be right for me to use it. Relics aren’t just tools. When I held the sword, it felt like it was asking for rest… I…” She turned back towards Byleth, who cleared her throat.

“If I may, Margrave, the Wandering Beast that we recovered Blutgang from was unlike any other in the world. It could speak, and seemed to recognize both the Sword of the Creator and the other Relics wielded by the Blue Lions students. It spoke of ‘comrades’ and of ‘the king’. I trust I don’t need to remind you what ‘king’ last wielded this sword. Between its own words and the remains it left behind, I can confirm beyond a doubt that the Wandering Beast was in fact Maurice himself, the Erased Hero. Blutgang remained with him, active, for over a thousand years.” The margrave blew out a long, slow breath, and tented his fingers.

Marianne spoke up again, adding “Because of that, I knew that I shouldn’t wield Blutgang. I’ve decided to give it to the Church of Seiros.” The margrave looked her in the eye, and Dimitri felt an immense surge of pride as she did not shrink away. “And you make this choice freely? You realize that it means that Blutgang will likely never come back into your hands, nor those of your future children?” Marianne smiled faintly, and nodded. “Blutgang deserves to rest in peace. And, besides… This world has survived without Blutgang for a thousand years. I have faith that it can survive another thousand, and then some.”

The margrave closed his eyes, and nodded. “Very well then. I add my own blessing to this: Professor Eisner, please deliver Blutgang to a dignified rest, for the sake of Marianne, and all of those who have borne the Crest of Maurice before her.” Byleth nodded solemnly, then smiled. “It will rest in one of the oldest sepulchers in Garreg Mach. Thank you for cooperating, Margrave.” Turning to Marianne, she smiled even wider. “And thank _you_ , Marianne. Your strength was instrumental in bringing Blutgang to its rest.” Marianne returned her smile, nodding serenely at the Black Eagles’ professor. Goddess, but Marianne’s smile could light up a room!

The others eventually bid the margrave farewell, but Dimitri hung around. As Marianne excused herself, she looked into Dimitri’s eyes, smiled, and gave his hand a small squeeze before letting herself out of the room. Once they were alone, Dimitri cleared his throat, nerves threatening to get the better of him.

“Well, Your Highness. You look as though you have something on your mind.” Dimitri nodded. “I do, Margrave. I know that we have had… correspondence, over the past few moons. I wanted to reaffirm my seriousness in this matter in person, and--” The margrave sighed. “And by ‘this matter’, you mean my daughter?”

Dimitri swallowed. His nerves were building by the moment, and he feared that if he didn’t manage to get this out, he would explode. “That is correct, sir. I… Marianne has been a source of light and hope in my life, such that I have not known in years. The two of us have discussed it at length, but as the days grow shorter, so too does the time until I assume my father’s throne. And I… To be honest with you, I cannot imagine anyone else I would rather see standing with me as the Queen of Faerghus than her. I would like to ask you, officially, for her hand in marriage.”

\---

The Blue Lions planned to stay for a full day after their victory over the beasts, both in part to recover their strength following a tough battle (the Relic-wielders especially needed this, having made such heavy use of their Crests’ powers), and because the capital of Edmund wanted to throw them a parade for saving them from the Wandering Beast. As they arrived, village children lined the streets, cheering and clapping while their party rode down the central street. After the parade, they all attended an impromptu festival which had been thrown together by the villagers. The Lions ate, drank, and celebrated their way across the town under heavy supervision by Hanneman, though he was hardly one to ruin this moment for them despite his refined sensibilities being under near-constant assault. The people thronged around them and hardly ever let them have any breathing room; Byleth worried that the constant attention would be too much for Marianne, but she noticed early into the festivities that she and Dimitri were off in their own blissful little world, and she left them to it.

By nightfall, most of the Lions were in varying states of inebriation (though Dimitri and Marianne stayed sober, as did Hanneman), and Byleth began to feel the effects of her own celebration catching up with her as the world tilted ever so slightly. She somehow wound up in a fast-paced dance next to a great bonfire as some of the villagers ripped out local favorites on fiddles, guitars, and one particularly weather-beaten lyre. To her shock, Ingrid was somehow able to pull Dedue away from his duties for long enough to jump in, the two of them moving like she had never imagined they could. The others joined in, and Byleth ended up whirling between partners as the songs got faster and more energetic in pace. First she danced with Sylvain, who had a rosy glow on his cheeks, then it was Annette, then Mercedes, then Hapi, and finally, to her elation, Edelgard. The two of them danced with abandon, and as the song came to a close they stood close to each other, gasping for breath. She saw a very red-faced Felix in the same sort of situation with Sylvain, but turned back as soon as she registered it, as she had something more pressing on her mind. She looked down at Edelgard, and saw the full moon reflected in her lilac eyes. Some wild passion stirred in her chest, but before she could do anything to release it, the villagers (and the other Blue Lions) let out a great whooping cheer. Turning again, she caught Felix slowly breaking away from Sylvain, the both of them now scarlet-cheeked and grinning. Eager to not be left out, she turned back to Edelgard, but the two of them were swept apart as the next song got underway. She cursed her luck, but the rational part of her mind reminded her that it would _not_ be ideal for Hanneman to spot her and Edelgard in a similar situation until after graduation, and most of her reluctantly agreed to behave. The rest of the night passed without incident, and the Lions called it a night well after midnight.

They rested one additional day to let those who had overindulged at the festival recover, which Byleth was eternally grateful for. Early in the morning, she spotted Dimitri in the entrance hall of the manor, handing over an envelope with House Edmund’s seal on it to a messenger, but her head still felt like it was going to split open, so she disregarded it for later. In the evening, Dimitri gathered the Blue Lions (and Byleth and her Eagles), and announced that he and Marianne were now officially engaged to be married. Though slightly subdued from lingering headaches, they all went wild, congratulating the two of them heartily. Sylvain even managed to avoid teasing Dimitri over it, which Byleth considered a minor miracle. Edelgard embraced Marianne, and said that she was eager to call her her sister, before warning Dimitri to behave himself. She broke into a smile after her threat, and the Lions toasted the now official couple before retiring for the night.

Their party finally headed out after a sumptuous breakfast at the Edmund manor on the 19th of Red Wolf Moon, and traveled down through Daphnel territory without incident. They reached their familiar inn once again, and the innkeeper brought out a round of drinks for all their party - word had gotten out to the rest of the Alliance that the Wandering Beast had been slain, and that travelers in the northern reaches of the Alliance could sleep more soundly at night as a result. Byleth kept Blutgang on her hip at Marianne’s insistence, ignoring the stares from other travelers when they noticed that she bore not one but _two_ Relics. Their party must have seemed like something out of a myth with six Relics spread between them, and Byleth made sure not to drink too much so that she could make certain none of the other patrons tried anything. To Byleth’s immense satisfaction, the Relic-wielding Blue Lions had appeared to take her lecture after the Miklan incident to heart, and she caught Annette polishing the spines on the back of Crusher several times as the night wore on. As they went to bed that night, Byleth called Constance into the room that she, Edelgard, and Hapi were sharing.

“We have something of a change of plans, ladies. I’m going to be parting ways with the Blue Lions tomorrow, and instead making my way down into Gloucester territory.” Edelgard gave Byleth a confused look, and asked “Whyever for? Should you not return to the monastery?” Byleth shook her head. “I already made sure that no study sessions could be scheduled for this week, so it’s not going to cause the Eagles any trouble. In addition, Claude came to me and asked if I would help the Golden Deer fight some monsters that were plaguing trade routes between Gloucester and Riegan, and assist Lorenz in subduing a rebellious noble near the Great Bridge of Myrddin.” Understanding flashed in Edelgard’s eyes, and she nodded. “Of course… The Great Bridge is a vital throughpoint for travel and commerce. It makes sense to deal with a threat to it. Claude was wise to ask you.” Byleth cracked a smile at Edelgard upselling her story - while Edelgard likely knew this was not the full reason for her agreeing to help out, she knew how vital the Great Bridge would be for their eventual strike on Those Who Slither in the Dark.

Byleth rubbed the back of her head, and spoke again. “I think he was too. Now, while I go to meet up with the Golden Deer, I want you all to go back with the Blue Lions. Just because I can afford to be away from the monastery doesn’t mean that you can.” Edelgard and Hapi spoke up at the same time, startling each other. Edelgard motioned for Hapi to speak first, and after a brief nod of acknowledgement, she did. “Well if it’s all the same, Blue, I’d really rather stay and help. Part of the reason you brought me was to wallop beasts, and if all the Deer are gonna… Well, nevermind the other thing. I just want to come along and help, since I’m here.” Byleth cocked an eyebrow, but instead of pressing Hapi for more details on the thing she very obviously thought better about saying, she turned to Edelgard and gave her an expectant look.

Clearing her throat, Edelgard argued “It simply wouldn’t do for me to abandon you to the wilds until the Golden Deer arrive. There is strength in numbers, B-- my teacher, and I would feel much more at ease if… I-I mean, I just…” She trailed off, looking a little pink in the face. Byleth sighed, and turned to Constance. “Well, Constance. Do you want to stay, too?” Surprisingly, the dark flier shook her head. “While I do so enjoy your company, as well as that of Lady Edelgard and my dear Hapi, it would behoove me to return to Garreg Mach to continue my studies. I must not be idle, after all!” Byleth chuckled, and nodded in acknowledgement.

In the end, Edelgard and Hapi managed to wear her down. It wasn’t exactly hard - she actually quite liked the idea of going on a little road trip with Edelgard, and Hapi had a point about her ability to combat beasts, other reasons notwithstanding. Constance alone was going to return to the monastery, and she left their room with a vow to report on their adventures to the rest of the Black Eagles as soon as she arrived, as well as to put Hubert’s mind at ease so that he didn’t storm out to find them. The following morning, Byleth announced that she, Edelgard, and Hapi would not be accompanying the Lions the rest of the way home, and she handed Blutgang over to Marianne with instructions to see it to Seteth for safe-keeping until it could be interred. While the Lions headed on, their trio stayed in the inn until about midday. When they finally left, they rode at an easy pace east south-east, crossing into Gloucester territory at dusk. They were still too far north to reach the inn Claude had told her to meet the Golden Deer at with the limited amount of daylight left to them, so the three of them set up camp for the night, and travelled the rest of the way south in the morning hours of the 21st. They arrived at the inn, and settled into the common room to wait for the Golden Deer to arrive later that day.

\---

As it happened, they did not need to wait for long. The Golden Deer arrived late that afternoon, with a few unexpected additions. Their numbers had been severely cut down by Byleth and Dimitri, leaving only Claude, Hilda, Lorenz, Ignatz, and Raphael from their original roster. Balthus, ever since he started his nebulous employment to Claude, had become an honorary Golden Deer for this year’s graduating class (despite having already graduated once before), and he rode in alongside the Deer, happily chatting away to Claude as they stabled their mounts. Edelgard couldn’t quite figure him out - he had steadfastly refused to tell her or Byleth anything regarding his arrangement with Claude, but he had Byleth’s implicit trust for some reason. That made him worth keeping an eye on, even if she would have told Edelgard otherwise. 

More surprising than Balthus’ presence by far was the fact that Leonie and Lysithea had also joined the Deer for this outing. They seemed to still get on well with their former housemates, though the both of them expressed quite a bit of surprise to find Edelgard and Hapi with Byleth at the inn. Byleth explained quickly that she asked Claude to get the two of them to come along so that the Golden Deer would at least be somewhat close to full strength, which made sense to Edelgard. She was a little confused why Byleth felt the need to keep all these plans to herself, but then, Edelgard hadn’t exactly been forthcoming in recent days, either. She grimaced, which Byleth thankfully didn’t notice as she set about making sure Hapi was acquainted with the rest of the Deer. Claude, to Edelgard’s consternation, _did_ notice, and he gave her one of his infuriating winks in response.

The Deer and Eagles were in high spirits that night, with the exception of Ignatz. For some reason, the Golden Deer’s assassin seemed quite out of sorts, but before Edelgard could ask him about it, Hapi went over to him and began talking to him in hushed tones. She watched their conversation for a time, trying to figure out what the issue was. Edelgard was not skilled in lip-reading, and neither of their voices carried over the din of the common room now that it was full of students and regular patrons, but it seemed that whatever Hapi was saying to Ignatz was working. At the very least, his gloomy attitude lessened a little by the time Hapi stood up, and he even joined her as she went back over to Raphael. She had a small, self-satisfied smile on her face as the two Deer men talked, and it was joined by a small blush as Raphael put a giant hand on each of their shoulders, drawing the both of them in for a hug. Lorenz regarded the three of them rather haughtily, but was soon drawn into an argument with Leonie. Edelgard noticed Byleth smirking to herself as she watched the two of them, only getting up to intervene when Leonie stood up, stomping dangerously close to the legacy of House Gloucester on Lorenz’s chair, and bellowed out “You wanna take this outside, Lorenz?!” Claude pinched the bridge of his nose, before shooting Edelgard a “what can you do” sort of look. Despite his… Claude-ishness, he was still at some level a house leader dealing with his housemates’ antics, and Edelgard felt his exasperation in her bones.

They set out early in the morning, but before they rode away from the inn, Byleth fished out a cavalier’s helmet from among the extra gear the Golden Deer had brought along with them and thrust it at Lorenz. He looked at her in confusion, but she stared at him for a few moments before saying “Wear it. Trust me. It’s better for everyone that your identity doesn’t get out while we’re out here.” When Manuela agreed with the idea, Lorenz begrudgingly donned the helmet, though the ridiculous rose he always sported would still give him away if someone knew what he usually looked like. After their party set out, Edelgard rode up next to Raphael, Hapi, and Ignatz. After exchanging pleasantries, she asked the assassin “So, how did we end up on this mission, anyway? It seems more like a mission for the Knights of Seiros to handle, doesn’t it?” Ignatz sighed, and produced a folded up piece of paper from his saddlebags.

“This is a letter from my older brother, Gaius. He’s actually why I’m at Garreg Mach - as the firstborn, he’s inheriting my family’s business, which meant that I had to become a knight. Er, but, anyway… In this letter, he told me about some losses that our parents’ traders had taken recently. They’re mostly centered on the trade route _from_ Gloucester’s capital to Derdriu. I emphasize the word ‘from’ because traders apparently run into a whole lot less trouble going the opposite way, from Derdriu to Gloucester… It’s suspicious, and my brother wrote to me to see if I could get some help to investigate the attacks. I asked Claude, and he asked Professor Byleth, and well… Here we are.” Edelgard nodded - this Gaius fellow seemed to have a good head on his shoulders if he suspected Count Gloucester of foul play. Rumors had circulated about him for years, describing all manor of underhanded dealings. He was exactly the kind of despicable noble Edelgard most wanted to rid this world of… 

Rather than voice this, Edelgard simply hummed as if she had been deep in thought. “Well, hopefully we can find out who is attacking these merchants, and make the roads a little safer for everyone.” An exasperated noise from behind her drew her attention, and Edelgard turned in the saddle to watch Leonie trying and failing to keep Lorenz in line. “Fear not, Lady Edelgard. No fiends who prey upon the innocent shall escape the justice of Lorenz Hellman Gloucester, especially not in my family’s domain!” Lorenz’s voice echoed from within his helmet, and it was all Edelgard could do to suppress a snicker. 

\---

Their party drew near to the stretch of road where Byleth knew the ambush on the merchant caravan they were here to save would take place just as the sun peaked directly overhead. Snarls and cries of fear caught their attention before they actually saw anything, and Byleth spurred their party forward at a gallop. As they charged along the road, an old roadside garrison came into view, resting on the far side of a small river from them. Guttural howls were soon matched to giant wolves, who were closing in on a decently-sized merchant caravan. Its few guards were in danger of being overwhelmed, but they were fighting back valiantly as their charges tried to flee as fast as they could while burdened with wagons full of trade goods. Ignatz only counted two wolves (which was practically a walk in the park these days), but as she expected, the wolves were not alone. Raphael bellowed out “Hang on! There’s people mixed in with those wolves! A lotta soldiers, and some mages! Do you think they’re controlling them or something?”

Byleth confirmed his suspicion, and quickly moved to split their forces up. One group, consisting of herself, Balthus, Lysithea, Hapi, and Raphael, began to move south - their objective was to capture the nearby drawbridge, lower it, and provide cover for the merchants until they were able to escape the wolves. Since their party was all uniquely skilled at dealing with monsters, Manuela nodded, and quickly took charge of the northern team to deal with the couple dozen soldiers and mages along the northern shore. She, Claude, Edelgard, Hilda, Ignatz, Lorenz, and Leonie were going to work their way along the river and into the garrison, which Byleth knew from experience was where the Gloucester commander was directing this attack from. She worried a little about sending Lorenz to deal with him, but this was part of why she had made him hide his identity. While it wouldn’t do for these merchants to know his identity either, the Gloucester commander could complicate things immensely if he recognized Lorenz. Manuela surprised Byleth by unsheathing a levin sword. She flourished it from her mount, and ordered her group to charge. 

Byleth shot the Sword of the Creator out to its maximum distance, impaling one of the Gloucester soldiers holding the drawbridge ahead of them before a flick of her wrist diced the man. Hapi and Lysithea unleashed a devastating dark magic barrage on the remainder of the squad holding the bridge, and Raphael and Balthus set to work un-jamming the bridge. Gloucester soldiers had forced all manner of things into the gears that would normally let it raise and lower freely, from scrap metal to spear shafts. Between the two of them the gears were soon free, and the drawbridge was lowered. Byleth put a hand to her mouth and whistled as loudly as she could towards the merchants. The leader of the caravan caught sight of them and let out a hoarse cheer, spurring his fellow merchants onward.

Byleth’s team rode forward, streaking past the merchants in an effort to rescue the beleaguered caravan guards from the jaws of the advancing wolves. Balthus charged one, raising Vajra-Mushti up high as his magically-infused punches tore deep gashes into its side. Rather than give it time to recover or get away, Raphael dove into it, bringing his considerable bulk down on its neck and twisting as hard as he could on its oversized head. After a moment it stopped struggling, though Byleth did give it a mercy blow just in case it was trying to play dead. Meanwhile, Lysithea and Hapi cantered in opposing circles around the other wolf, conjuring a maelstrom of dark energy. The hairs on the back of Byleth’s neck stood on end as they unleashed it, a horrifyingly strong Hades Omega. By the time the swirling vortex of energy they called into being dissipated, all that remained of the wolf was a charred husk.

Byleth sent Lysithea and Balthus back to guard the merchants, and rode ahead to another river crossing a short ways away with Raphael and Hapi. On the other side of the river, they caught sight of Claude and Edelgard tearing through the remaining enemy soldiers ahead of them. Claude’s fury from atop his white wyvern was a sight to behold even without Failnaught, and Edelgard had taken to galloping across the field at full speed, taking heavy slashes downward at anything she approached with Crest-powered blows that often cleaved less heavily armored soldiers completely in twain. The two of them killed at least a dozen soldiers on their own as Byleth and the others approached, and as quiet settled over the field, they moved to regroup. The five of them approached the garrison only to hear Lorenz shouting at the top of his lungs.

“What **_nerve_ ** you have, claiming to harass these innocent merchants on the authority of _House Gloucester!_ You will answer for these crimes, villain, I swear--” Byleth cried out a moment too late as Claude fired heavy, piercing arrows directly into the Gloucester commander’s breastplate. She considered turning back time, but opted instead to observe for a moment to see how this would play out. Lorenz whirled his horse around and began to shout at Claude, but the wyvern master simply held a gloved hand up. “Before you start, that guy was never going to give you anything actionable. He could have been ordered to do this by your father directly - I happen to think he probably was - but he knew better than to cross Count Gloucester. And trying to take him in to ‘face justice’? Don’t make me laugh. You and I both know how that would go, Lorenz, and there’s no use pretending otherwise.”

Lorenz sputtered indignantly for a moment, but eventually settled for giving Claude a disgusted huff as he rode away towards the direction of the merchants. Byleth flashed Claude a look she hoped communicated “remember you aren’t the Grand Duke yet” and rode off after him, followed by Ignatz, Raphael, Leonie, and Hapi. They caught up to Lorenz before he had a chance to say something stupid to the merchants, and Byleth took him aside for a moment while Ignatz and Raphael checked on the caravan. Though it was too far while they were both mounted for her to reach over and pat his shoulder, Byleth tried to adopt as soothing of a tone as she could when she spoke. “Lorenz… I know that you’re upset, but it’s something of an open secret that your father is hardly the paragon of nobility you strive to be. You know that, even if you don’t want to acknowledge it. And that’s okay. Just… Listen to these merchants’ stories, and don’t interject no matter how much you want to. Okay?”

Lorenz sighed heavily, the sound muffled oddly in his helmet, but eventually acknowledged Byleth’s request. Leonie rode up alongside him, an odd look on her face. The three of them reached Ignatz and Raphael, who had dismounted by then, and joined them on the ground. One of the merchants spotted Byleth’s green hair, and his eyes widened. “Goddess above, it’s… It’s _you!_ You’re the one who was blessed by the goddess! You saved all those people from that village over in the Empire that burned to ash!” He bowed low, and his fellow merchants quickly joined him despite Byleth’s protests. “It’s truly an honor to even speak to you, much less to be saved by you. We owe you our lives, Lady of Flames!” Byleth quirked an eyebrow - “Lady of Flames”? That was certainly a new one, but this was hardly the time to investigate it. 

“Are you folks going to be alright, now?” The lead merchant nodded. “Thanks to your intervention, yes. We owe--” Byleth cut him off with only a hint of sharpness. “Hey now, if it weren’t for Ignatz and Raphael here, we never would have known to come find you. If anything, they deserve the credit for this.” The head merchant opened his eyes wide as they could go, and turned on Ignatz. “Oh, goddess, Master Victor! I had no idea that was you - I hardly recognize you. Garreg Mach seems to suit you.” Ignatz blushed at the praise, and replied “Ah, yes… Well, in any event, I’m just glad that we were able to keep all of you safe. Can you give me a brief report on what happened before we arrived? I need to report this to my family.”

The merchants all shared a dark look with one another, before the head merchant spoke up again. “Well sir, we were headed to Derdriu. It’s the only place we can reliably make a profit, and though we’d heard rumors about this route being dangerous, it’s the fastest way to move goods from the Empire to Riegan.” Ignatz frowned. “‘Rumors’. So this has happened before, to other caravans?” The merchant nodded. “A fair few, yes. Survivors have reported that it’s always troops from House Gloucester, which seems to have been the case this time too. The count’s been unhappy with House Riegan’s continued prosperity for years. This is just hearsay, mind you, but word has it that Count Gloucester is the reason House Riegan had no heir up until recently.”

At this, Lorenz burst out “What? That’s absurd!”, but Byleth raised a hand and gently motioned for the merchant to continue. The man shook his head. “I’d have thought so too, but seeing those Gloucester mages siccing _wolves_ on us has me rethinking those old tales. Anyway, story goes that he lured Godfrey von Riegan, Grand Duke Oswald von Riegan’s late son and previous heir, out to his estate with some sort of art deal or some such. Lord Godfrey brought a pair of merchants with him to assess the pieces, but no guard retinue, since we were at peace. They all ended up dying from a monster attack, though some soldiers with no identifying insignia were also dead near ‘em. Sad affair, but… Damn, I wish these nobles would keep us common folk out of their quarrels. I couldn’t care less if the count had a blood feud with the Grand Duke, there’s no sense in what he did…”

Ignatz, Raphael, and Lorenz all grew quiet, though the merchant didn’t seem to notice the subdued atmosphere. Byleth cleared her throat. “Well, thank you for the story… In any event, what matters right now is that you and your fellows are safe. I doubt that anyone will try this same thing twice, no matter who was behind it. Will your caravan be able to make it to Derdriu on its own from here?” The merchant surveyed their caravan, then turned back to Byleth and nodded. “We’ll be fine, barring any more nasty surprises like that. But like you said, there’s no way this’ll happen twice, right? Anyway, I cannot thank you enough, Lady of Flames. You and these students saved us all.” Turning back to Ignatz, the merchant clapped a hand on his shoulder, which startled Ignatz from his thoughts temporarily. “Take care of yourself, Master Victor. You’re doing your family proud out there!” Ignatz returned his exhortation with a small, polite smile, and soon the merchant caravan got back underway, heading north-east.

Ignatz let out a heavy sigh, and his smile faded instantly as he turned to Raphael. “I… Raphael, I’m so sorry. Those merchants… They were--” Raphael put a hand around Ignatz’ shoulders. “It’s alright, buddy. Yeah, that was my folks… But honestly, it’s been such a long time, I don’t hold any kind of grudge.” His eyes flickered up to Lorenz when he said this, but he refocused on Ignatz in time to watch him shake his head vehemently. “No! You don’t understand. It… It was supposed to be _my_ parents who went with Godfrey von Riegan, but they had to back out at the last. Your parents went in their place, and… Goddess, Raphael, I’m so sorry…”

Raphael sighed now, and shook his head gently. “Look Ignatz, your parents have never been anything but nice to me. I know they probably feel bad for what happened to my folks, but that’s in the past. There’s no need for them or you to beat yourself up about it. The way I see it, my folks died in a monster attack. _Maybe_ it was like this one, or maybe it wasn’t. I don’t have time to worry about it, though. I’ve got Maya to worry about, and I’d never want to lose a friend like you over something like this.” The Golden Deer’s grappler looked up at Lorenz again, and he even managed a smile. “Or you, Lorenz! I don’t care if that rumor is true or not - far as I’m concerned, that’s our parents’ business, not ours. We’re square, so don’t even worry about it. Your pal Raph’s not goin’ anyway because of this.”

Lorenz’s voice was small and slightly choked-sounding when he managed to respond. “I… Thank you, Raphael. For what little it may be worth, I _am_ sorry. But there is wisdom to your words - the schemes and machinations of my father are not mine. I have come to count you as a dear friend. As for this business today… I think my father and I need to have a bit of a conversation after we deal with Acheron.” Leonie smiled at Lorenz, and Byleth felt her shoulders untense slightly as the situation resolved itself without incident. The nine of them headed back towards the rest of the group, chatting politely among themselves. Lorenz took off his helmet and adjusted his hair on the way over, and they reunited with the rest of the Deer after a few minutes.

As they reached the others, they noticed two new riders had joined them, both grim-faced men on horses built for speed. Claude had an inscrutable look on his face, and Hilda looked uncharacteristically nervous. Byleth cocked an eyebrow, and asked Manuela what was going on. The physician rubbed the back of her neck and sighed. “Well, those two messengers rode up just a little bit ago, while you and the rest of them were busy talking to those merchants we saved. All it took was spotting Claude’s wyvern for the two of them to stop and deliver him and Hilda both sealed messages. This first one, the blond fellow? Evidently he’s from House Goneril. Holst, the current heir of House Goneril and Hilda’s older brother, requested Hilda come out to help House Goneril’s troops at Fodlan’s Locket. Evidently the Almyrans are pressing at the fortress there, and Holst expects them to attack any day now. Important business has come up that forced him to step away… Which is where the second messenger comes in.”

Byleth swore under her breath, drawing an amused chuckle from Manuela. “You and me both.” She shook her head. “So that one, with the dark hair… He’s from House Riegan, and he had some tragic news. Unfortunately, it seems that Duke Oswald has passed away. Claude is now _Duke_ Claude, and he’s going to have to head to Derdriu right away for an emergency roundtable summit. Holst is already in Derdriu now for that summit, which means that Goneril territory in general, and Fodlan’s Locket in particular, are now without a defender. Claude’s taking Balthus with him, too, which means we’re down _two_ capable warriors.” Byleth grimaced. This was incredibly bad timing all around, that much was certain, though Byleth was sure that Claude’s grandfather had never died during the actual school year before. She was uncertain of _when_ he died, now that she thought about it - it was definitely while she slept, but whether it was immediately after the war broke out or closer to her awakening was beyond her.

“The urgency of House Goneril’s message means that I need to take the rest of the Golden Deer out to the Locket immediately. We’re going to stop at the Goneril manor along the way, at Holst’s request. Evidently he’s decided that this situation is the _perfect_ time for Hilda to test out her connection to House Goneril’s Relic weapon, an axe called Freikugel. He doesn’t bear a Crest of Goneril himself, so it’s not like he would be using it normally anyway, but… Goddess, what I wouldn’t give to wring that man’s neck! Who does he think he is, thrusting a Relic at someone and expecting them to take it into battle against an opponent like the Almyran army?” She broke off, swearing under her own breath and producing a hip flask from stars knew where.

Part of Byleth wanted to point out that _she_ had had a Relic thrust at her and had been instructed to go fight someone with another Relic immediately afterwards, but she thought better of it when she noticed how agitated Manuela was. She cleared her throat, catching Manuela’s attention again. “Well, that’s fine. I’m certainly not going to abandon you or the Deer now, especially since Claude and Balthus are both going to be absent. The Black Eagles are with you out to the Locket. Once we’re done, we can deal with the situation at the Great Bridge of Myrddin, too.” She smiled, trying to be reassuring. Manuela seemed appreciative of her effort, which was good. Her eyes wandered, and she caught Claude’s green eyes boring holes into her. He had an odd look on his face as well, one that Byleth could barely place. It was almost like… triumph? She blinked, but when she looked back again it was gone, replaced with his usual false smile. Something in Byleth’s chest felt unsettled by all of this, but they had bigger fish to catch for now. Gathering the students up, she announced that they were riding for Goneril territory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So originally the Blue Lions were going to leave after a night's rest, but that put them leaving Edmund territory on like.... the 17th, which was a Monday. I couldn't reasonably find a way for Byleth to tool around for four days until the Deer showed up, so out came the parade and festival on the 17th, and the day of recovery on the 18th. It's too rare that these characters get to kick back and enjoy themselves. Also I literally cannot help but write Sylvix if I'm left alone with those two at my disposal for too long. Plus, I mean, Dimitri and Marianne needed to announce things to their friends, too.
> 
> Gaius was an ancient Roman name, just like Ignatius. And Ignatz comes directly from Ignatius, by way of German.
> 
> I changed Leicester's history a tiny bit, mainly because this bit of writing never made any sense. In the original script, Godfrey von Riegan was actually the Grand Duke when he was killed, and Oswald the Old stepped back up to reclaim the title. But that's not how the Alliance works - without an heir or the reasonable ability to produce one by being young, virile, and healthy, there's no reason the other noble houses would have kept Riegan as the lead house of the roundtable. So, Oswald is now and has been since his ascension to the post the Grand Duke, and Godfrey was only ever his heir.
> 
> Hey so, this bit about the Crest of Goneril? Not completely made up! Nowhere in Three Houses is it confirmed whether Holst bears it or not, but we can reasonably infer that he doesn't actually have a Crest of Goneril himself from Hilda's dialogue at the end of Dividing the World ("He said that I should have it, since the Crest I bear will allow me to wield it. He was so insistent, I eventually relented."). The Alliance, it would seem, doesn't require the head of house / heir to the house to possess a Crest compatible with its Relic weapon. This also makes Holst being hyped up as such a supreme badass warrior more impressive, because he's somehow more of a terror on the battlefield than Hilda despite being just a normal human.


	45. The Walls of Fodlan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Eagles and Deer continue on towards Fodlan's Locket, meet Hilda's mom, and fight a desperate battle to save the fortress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CN: violence and some mild animal gore. It's a battle chapter, so you should expect canon-typical violence there (including the deaths of a horse and a wyvern), but we also see a little of the circle of life in effect. It isn't major, but if that bothers you to read about, skip to the end of the paragraph when you see "I guess you can tell I got hurt, huh? But what about your horse? I promised you.”, and again when you see "Soon, she could stand on her own, though her ankle and shoulder still hurt like hell."

Byleth, her handful of Eagles, and the remaining Golden Deer travelled on at a quick clip to the east. They rode till dusk, managing to make about a third of the distance between the site of their roadside battle and the Goneril manor by the time the first stars began to peek out. This part of Fodlan was far enough south that camping wouldn’t be unthinkable, but none of them were pleased with the prospect of the chilly night that awaited them. Edelgard in particular couldn’t _stand_ the cold. Winter winds had a way of tearing through whatever she had on if she wasn’t wearing full plate, and it always made her scars burn. She was slightly put out that she had drawn the first watch, and was slightly more annoyed that the one who was sharing that duty with her just _had_ to have been Lorenz. He had always been a symbol of the nobility she wanted to erase, though she did privately wonder if this was due to not actually getting to know him like she had Ferdinand. Thankfully, despite having a bad reputation among the women of the Officer’s Academy, Lorenz had never been foolish enough to try anything with her - he knew his noble status meant nothing in the face of her own. She actually took some small satisfaction in thinking that she likely intimidated the man. They would have to interact while on watch tonight, but that was manageable. 

A few hours into their watch, Edelgard was unhappily stoking the fire, grimacing as the wind caught up the smoke from it and blew it into her face. She managed to get it built back up, and hunkered down in an attempt to will the wind to leave her be. Suddenly, she felt a soft weight on her left arm. She looked upwards to find that Lorenz had joined her by the fire, and was extending a sturdy-looking hide cloak to her. She took it without a moment’s hesitation, grateful to have slightly more protection from the icy fingers of the Red Wolf Moon. She quickly remembered her manners, and responded rather genuinely “Thank you, Lorenz. I’m afraid my constitution just isn’t suited for winters outside of Enbarr.”

The purple-haired noble shook his head. “Not at all, Lady Edelgard. Think nothing of it. There is certainly no shame in feeling the effects of winter’s wrath as it begins in earnest. We’ll be lucky to avoid snow once we arrive in Goneril, I should think.” Edelgard shuddered at the thought. “That sounds dreadful. I have already had quite enough snow at the monastery.” Lorenz nodded, though Edelgard could very clearly tell that his thoughts were elsewhere. He stared into the fire, a furrow growing ever more prominent in his brow as the minutes passed. Finally, Edelgard could stand it no longer, and cleared her throat. “Lorenz… You look troubled. Would you care to speak about whatever it is that’s causing you discomfort?”

Lorenz looked up, shock in his purple eyes. “I-I… Oh, I suppose there is no sense in attempting to keep up a façade if it has already been seen through… You are quite the judge of character, Lady Edelgard.” Edelgard let out a low chuckle. “Not quite as good as you might think. You just looked a bit… introspective, shall we say. Now then, what is it that has you feeling like this?” Lorenz sank down to a seated position next to the fire, a few feet away from her. For a moment he said nothing, but eventually the dam burst. It was a testament to his strict upbringing that he managed to hold his composure, but his voice shook ever so slightly as he spoke.

“I have been contemplating nobility, I suppose. Perhaps that is not all that unusual to hear from one such as myself, but… The things that I learned earlier today have been weighing upon my mind.” Edelgard was a bit lost, but with a little gentle prodding, Lorenz provided context. “To learn that the prevailing wisdom regarding the identity of the one behind not only this vile act of… of… _banditry_ from earlier, but also the death of Duke Riegan’s former heir, names my _father_ as the culprit… I admit that I am a bit, er, flummoxed by it all.” Edelgard sat in silence, unsure of what Lorenz was looking for. She would, of course, be thrilled to take this opportunity to work on Lorenz’s overinflated sense of noble superiority, but he seemed to be actually hurting right now. It would be cruel of her to take advantage of that, though she had no doubt that her former self would have taken this opportunity.

Thankfully, Lorenz continued before Edelgard had to ask what he needed. “I suppose… It is simply challenging how I even conceive of nobility, if I were to be completely honest. As a child, I looked up to my father in everything. I based my own noble bearing upon him, and upon his teachings. If it were true that he were responsible for the death of Raphael’s parents, and perpetrated banditry upon his own people… It calls into question everything I ever thought about him, and thus my own noble standard. If my lodestar is no longer reliable...” 

Edelgard tried to keep her voice as level as possible, and responded by saying “Well, Lorenz, if that is the case, what do you think should come as a result of this?” He gave her a confused look, so she continued on. “Were I in your shoes, and just found out that my father had done something heinous to the family of a friend and to the people who live in his own territory… Well, I would want nothing to do with him, no matter his title. I would dedicate myself to being a better _person_ than he is, whether or not I ever took over his position of authority for myself.”

Lorenz gazed into the fire for a while without speaking. His brow continued to furrow, and for a moment Edelgard wondered if she had overplayed her hand. But finally, Lorenz let out a long, somewhat overdramatized sigh, and shook his head. “Perhaps. But I fear you may be somewhat stronger than I am, Lady Edelgard. I haven’t the faintest idea of where to go from here. If I were to reject everything my father stands for, everything he raised me to be… what would be left?” Edelgard blinked, momentarily stunned by his question. “I… Are you asking me how to become your own person?” A small flush showed on Lorenz’s face in the firelight, and he lowered his head ever so slightly. 

Edelgard pressed him again. “If you are, there’s no shame in it. Many people have had to face the challenge of reinventing themselves after learning something unpleasant that spurred them to action. While my _telling_ you how to be your own person would rather defeat the point… Well, as unhelpful as this may seem, you could consider simply following your heart.” Lorenz looked up at her now, a slight look of disdain on his sharp features. Edelgard would not relent, though. “I’m quite serious. The part of you that is even considering doing this, that is so troubled by the possibility that your father isn’t the man you thought him to be… If you listen to that part of you, I have no doubt that you’ll end up in a good place. And, for what it’s worth, you have friends who can guide you along the way.”

Lorenz looked back down again, and Edelgard took that as her cue to leave him to his thoughts. “Why don’t you take an early rest? Our watch will be up soon, so I’m going to go check around the perimeter, and I’ll wake Byle-- er, Professor Byleth, and Leonie when I return.” He nodded, otherwise keeping silent as he (hopefully) considered her words. Edelgard rose, and walked off into the night.

\---

Their party broke camp with the dawn, leaving a tired Ignatz and Lysithea to manage as best they could from waking up early for the final watch. They passed through several small villages along the way to Goneril, though they allowed themselves only a brief stop to visit a market for food they could take while riding rather than sampling from any of the inns along the way. One some level, Byleth was disappointed, for the inns of Goneril had a well-earned reputation for having some of the best (or at least most creative) perpetual stews in Fodlan due to their proximity to Almyra. Almyran spices and ingredients ended up in even the most bigoted innkeep’s pots around here because the customers liked them, and Byleth had developed a particular penchant for a beef and herb stew variant with dried limes. She stayed resolute even in the face of such devastation as missing out on that stew, and by early evening, their party finally drew close to the Goneril manor.

When they arrived, they were met by a beautiful woman with long, pink hair. For a moment, Byleth thought perhaps the world had broken, and an older version of Hilda from 1186 had shown up. This notion was quickly dispelled as Hilda charged forward and embraced the woman, shouting “Mom!”. The two Goneril women were dead ringers for one another, though Hilda’s mother dressed a bit more traditionally than Hilda usually did, and her face showed a few more worry lines than Byleth had ever seen on Hilda’s. She introduced herself to their party as Diana, dowager countess of Goneril. She invited their party into the manor, and soon they were all seated in the manor’s dining room. Diana herself was an excellent host, making conversation with both the Golden Deer students she could recognize by name and the rest whom she could not with equal grace and deftness. Hilda must have inherited her own charm from Diana.

Manuela and Diana actually managed to hit it off quite well, the latter being a fan of the former’s work with the Mittelfrank Opera Company. The two of them were soon laughing and carrying on like old friends, and the meal was one of the most pleasant Byleth could remember with nobility in many a lifetime. After dinner, most of their party retired to the manor’s study, a spacious room that was lined with books. The only ones who did not join them were Ignatz and Lysithea, who begged their leave to get some sleep, though at some point Raphael and Hapi managed to sneak out of the room, unnoticed by most of their party besides Byleth and the two Goneril women. Byleth smiled - Raphael must have been working with Shamir on how to disguise his presence already in this lifetime to pull something like that off.

Gradually, their conversation turned more serious. Diana sighed as talk came around at last to the situation at Fodlan’s Locket. She abruptly stood, and slid off a ring engraved with the Crest of Goneril. She crossed the room over towards the fireplace, and slotted the ring into a little depression on the mantle. Some hidden mechanism made a great _clunk_ , and Byleth watched in fascination as a false panel was drawn upwards above the mantle, revealing a display rack from which Diana retrieved Freikugel. Turning around with a grave look on her face, she called out “Hilda. Come here, please.”

Hilda shot Byleth a nervous look, but obeyed her mother. As she drew close to Freikugel, the weapon fanned out, displaying the tendons between each long spine of the axe’s head. Hilda looked as though she was going to be sick. Diana also seemed a little unnerved by the Relic weapon, but pushed it aside to speak. “Hilda Valentine Goneril. In accordance with the wishes of Count Holst Nereus Goneril, you are to be granted the honor of bearing the sacred Relic of House Goneril, Freikugel. Do you accept this honor, and the responsibilities it entails?” Hilda swallowed hard, but quickly steeled herself, saying “I do.” Diana nodded, and the ghost of a smile crept onto her face. She extended Freikugel to Hilda, who took it in her hands. As soon as she touched it, the head burned red, casting an eerie glow in the study. Hilda quickly set the axe aside, and as its light faded, Byleth was just able to make out Diana whispering “Please be careful” to Hilda, whose face was drawn and grim.

They stayed the night, intending to leave around midday on the 24th of the Red Wolf Moon. However, this plan was dashed as they were sitting down to breakfast. An exhausted-looking messenger burst into the dining room, shouting “Countess! Almyran forces are on the move! They’ll be at the Locket in a matter of hours!” Manuela swore loudly, and Diana held stock still for a moment. Then, she stood. “Well then… I suppose our plans have changed. Professors, please take these students and ride to the Locket as quickly as you are able. I will prepare an auxiliary army and march by midday, but time is of the essence for the troops stationed there. Hilda: The forces at the Locket are yours to command, when you arrive.” Their party stood, abandoning their breakfasts in a flurry of activity, and within the hour they had all donned armor, saddled up, and began a hard ride toward Fodlan’s Throat.

\---

The combined Deer and Eagle party drew closer and closer to Fodlan’s Locket as the day went on, but each second that went by felt like an eternity to Hilda. Byleth had suggested that she take one of the Goneril estate’s wyverns and fly ahead to direct troops while the rest of their party rode behind her, but she had steadfastly refused. It wouldn’t make all that much of a difference if she arrived to take command without additional help at her back, and Byleth accepted it without any real rebuttal once Hilda had pointed it out. Now though, as the distant sounds of battle began to echo down the steep mountain pass of Fodlan’s Throat, Hilda almost wished she _had_ gone ahead. Dread was building up in her with every passing moment - what would they find when they reached Fodlan’s Locket? Would they be greeted with Goneril forces, or find that Almyrans were already streaming through the great gates of the fortress?

She wouldn’t have to wait long for her answer. Byleth got one of _those_ looks on her face, which told Hilda that something bad had happened. She wasn’t quite sure how Byleth’s time control powers worked, but she figured that Byleth could do things on a small scale if she were able to move between timelines like she had. She also held private suspicions that their defeat in the Battle of the Eagle and Lion had been due to Byleth’s interference, but the only one who she figured could confirm that was Claude, and he was being weird… 

She was pulled from her thoughts by Byleth giving the order to break into a full-out gallop to make it to the fortress as fast as possible. Fodlani horses were no strangers to mountain paths, especially not those kept at Garreg Mach, but riding this hard on a steep rocky path like this was a last resort for the desperate, and didn’t bode well. They covered the short remaining distance in a few minutes, pulling up short before the closed rear gates of Fodlan’s Locket and calling for entry. A gate guard poked his head up over the parapets, but upon spotting Hilda’s distinctive Goneril hair (and Freikugel, which she figured she _had_ to use despite knowing what it actually was), he shouted to some of his fellows inside, and their party was allowed entry to the fortress. 

As they got inside, Hilda immediately noticed two things. First, the mood in the Locket was dire. Wounded soldiers were lying on cots alongside the inner walls, and far too few healers were around to treat all of them. The sound of screeching and roars from the other side of the wall did little to brighten the atmosphere. Second, there were far too many soldiers here. Fodlan’s Locket was supposed to always have two full garrisons of troops, but there was at least a garrison’s worth of wounded on the inside of the fort. Hilda swore under her breath as they swept forward into the bailey. She made eye contact with Byleth, who nodded, and began barking initial orders to the students as Manuela ran off to join the fortress’ healers. Hilda scanned the area, looking for someone who looked like they were in charge, and settled for a greying man in lamellar. She pushed forward, hefting Freikugel on her shoulder, and caught the man’s eye. He snapped to attention immediately, shouting out “Lady Goneril! Thank the Goddess!”

Hilda grimaced, but she had no choice besides rising to this. “What’s your name?” The man remained at attention, and responded “Kamura, milady! Garrison commander!” Hilda sighed in relief at actually finding the right person on her first try. “Alright then Kamura, what’s the situation here? Quickly, if you can.” The man looked down towards the ground for a moment, and his shoulders dipped slightly before he regained composure. “Honestly? We’re fucked, unless you’ve got an army behind you. The Almyrans completely overwhelmed our troops, and what survivors couldn’t be evacuated back into the fortress are still out there fighting. They’re probably fairly isolated from each other by now. Our ballistae and archers have managed to keep their wyverns from flying over the walls, but it’s a narrow thing. Their cavalry forces keep making attempts at the gates, but the real problem isn’t their conventional military. We were geared for that. What we weren’t prepared for was giant hawks!”

Hilda shook her head in disbelief. She knew that beasts like that lived in craggy peaks of Fodlan’s Throat, but to have them on the battlefield, and evidently fighting _for_ the Almyrans… That was an issue. Steeling herself, she addressed Kamura again. “Alright… If the birds are our biggest problem, then you leave them to us. Professor Byleth is really good at fighting monsters. In the meantime, I want you to ready some troops for a rescue mission. While we fight the hawks, I want you to pull all of our forces back into the Locket. We’re going to have to hole up in here tonight with the Almyrans on the outside… Mo-- Countess Diana should have gotten underway with a small army at noon, and if she marches them as hard as I expect her to, they’ll be here by dawn. We’ve just got to make sure there’s still a fortress here to save.” She paused, and laid a hand on the man’s shoulder. “We’re going to get through this. I swear.” He nodded hesitantly, before bowing and moving off to give out her orders to the troops. If only she could actually be that confident, herself…

Hilda quickly rejoined Byleth and the others, and repeated the information she had learned to them. Byleth nodded without asking many questions, which further reinforced Hilda’s suspicion that she had had to turn back time already. This suspicion was confirmed when Byleth took her aside just before they were set to sally forth, and said in a low, conspiratorial voice “The Almyran beastmasters are going to bolt at the first sign of trouble. We _have_ to take them down fast, or they’ll escape and summon more hawks. You specifically need more power for this, so… I’m going to try something. Close your eyes.” Hilda reluctantly obeyed, and felt Byleth place a hand on either side of her head.

Suddenly, she felt as though she was floating, and when she opened her eyes, she was standing in front of an empty throne carved from stone that was the only source of light in an otherwise dark void. A noise to her left turned out to be Byleth shuffling around, but before Hilda could ask her just what in the hell was going on, Byleth waved her hand, and Hilda saw a scene appear before her. Arrayed on verdant fields were a number of soldiers, crest beasts, and… Her mother? A second look revealed that the pink-haired woman she was watching wasn’t actually Diana, but _by the goddess_ she looked like her. Hilda’s eyes widened as she watched the woman dart forward, snatching up Freikugel from the ground. It burned red in her hand, and Hilda realized that she must be watching her own future self from another timeline. Byleth waved a hand just as the other Hilda got into position to strike at a giant crest beast that dwarfed the ones they had fought at Remire, and everything stopped. 

Byleth sighed, and whispered to herself “I can’t believe this actually worked.” Hilda wanted to ask a thousand questions, but got distracted as Byleth grabbed her hand and pulled her closer to the scene before them. “We can talk about this later if you want. I didn’t think this would work, and it’s… hard to keep someone else here. Just watch what this Hilda does. It’s part of Freikugel’s full potential…” Byleth was breathing heavily after just speaking to her, so Hilda shrugged and accepted that things were just going to be weird today. With another wave of Byleth’s hand, the other Hilda sprang back to life. She widened her stance, holding Freikugel out in front of her. The Crest of Goneril blazed to life above her hand, and the other Hilda took two steps back before dashing forward, leaping over a badly-aimed swipe by the crest beast. She seemed to be channeling power into the Relic axe, and as she reached the apex of her jump, she whipped the axe above her head before bringing it down into the crest beast’s armored mask. Freikugel glowed brighter than she’d ever seen, and fire erupted from the axe head, tearing through the mask, the beast’s head, and down into the ground itself. When Freikugel contacted the ground, more fire burst up from below, and the other Hilda leapt backwards, shouting “Hil-da! Hil-da!” as the beast burned and withered. The fire spread outwards, burning the very earth itself in a wide range.

She felt a little embarrassed by her other self’s… exuberance, but Byleth was smiling, apparently finding that display endearing. The scene dissolved into blackness, and soon Hilda found herself back in the Locket, feeling just a little light-headed. Byleth looked pale and drawn, and Edelgard had evidently wandered over during all this commotion. She looked concerned, but Byleth shook her head to answer the Black Eagles’ house leader’s unspoken question. “I’m fine. Just… tried something. It worked.” After taking a moment to recover, Byleth rounded up the rest of the students, and explained her plan. 

She explained that there were two giant hawks on the field, each commanded by an Almyran beastmaster, and that those beastmasters were each guarded by a handful of Almyran cavalry and archers. To get to them, they would need to split into two teams. Byleth was going to take one team north, and was going to bring Edelgard, Hapi, and Raphael with her. Hilda was in charge of the second team, and she was going to take them south toward the other hawk. Her team was going to be Lorenz, Ignatz, Lysithea, and Leonie.

Hapi and Lysithea were each instructed to focus all their magic on the giant hawks - removing them from the battlefield would be of great benefit to the weary forces of House Goneril, but hawks were far more mobile than wolves or demonic beasts, so it would be comparatively harder for the mages to land accurate shots. Raphael and Lorenz were assigned to guard their team’s respective mage, while the rest of them were going to attack the Alymrans and wait for an opportunity to strike at the beastmaster on their side of the valley.

Kamura marched up to them, a squad of Goneril soldiers at his back. Hilda relayed their plan, and instructed her house’s troops to sally out from the main gate into the valley a few minutes after her and Byleth led their teams out through the smaller side gates. Ideally, they would be able to retrieve their stranded forces from the valley without any further casualties, and retreat to the safety of the walls before night fell. The sun was already beginning to sink, and the Locket’s high walls would cause an earlier darkness than they might have found at lower altitudes, so they didn’t have much time to waste. Their plans agreed on, the student forces split up, readying themselves at the northern and southern side gates to the Locket.

Byleth shot a fireball into the air to signal that it was time for them to charge, and Hilda led her classmates down into the valley below. They encountered resistance almost immediately as they came across a battle between a few Goneril troops and some of the Almyran forces. She charged in to relieve the Goneril troops, and after a quick skirmish that left them all whole and uninjured, Hilda ordered the grateful soldiers back into the Locket. They pressed onward, though they were now slightly behind the pace Byleth had intended them to move at if the screeches from the northern side of the valley were anything to go by.

They soon found their targets, catching sight of a great hawk perched on a large rock near the valley wall. A wyvern rider shot into the air as she spotted them, and three cavaliers formed up, likely contemplating whether to charge their team or to brace for a charge. Behind them, a couple archers hunkered down by a fallen tree. A woman dressed in flowing robes of green and gold with a giant, furry shawl shouted something in Almyran, and the giant hawk that had been resting nearby flew up into the air, letting out a horrible screech of its own. 

Their team split off as they got into engagement range, Lorenz and Lysithea wheeling their horses to and fro in an attempt to let her get a shot of Seraphim off in the hawk’s direction. Lorenz was doing an admirable job at fending off the Almyran cavaliers, but the second one of them slipped past his defenses was also the second Lysithea got it in her mind to remove both horse and rider from this plane of existence with a round of Dark Spikes. Hilda grimaced as dirt and rocks shot upwards from the impact of dark magic, leaving little more than a bloodstain and some unfortunate chunks of meat as evidence that anyone had been there at all. Leonie, meanwhile, was involved in a bow duel with the Almyran archers, and Hilda marvelled at how much she had improved since leaving their class. She brought them both down in quick succession, and Hilda decided now was the right time to go for the beastmaster herself.

Her progress was immediately halted by the wyvern rider, who pulled out a bow and managed to land an arrow in the eye of Hilda’s mount. She tumbled to the ground, trying to tuck into a roll to save herself from further injury. Her attempt failed, and she felt a sickening crunch when she tried to put weight on her left foot. She grimaced, and found that attempting to move that foot at all caused excruciating pain. Hilda was in a hard situation now, to be sure, but she didn’t want her opponent to know that. Letting out a fierce war cry, she hefted Freikugel and pointed it at the wyvern rider in an unmistakable challenge. The Almyran evidently accepted it, as she urged her wyvern into a steep dive, pulling out a steel axe and readying it for a punishing strike. Just as the wyvern rider reached her, Hilda leapt aside, slinging Freikugel out as far as she could into her enemy’s path. She was rewarded for her effort by a terrible, wrenching pain in her left arm as Freikugel found purchase in the rider’s chest, pulling her from the saddle and onto the ground. Hilda immediately pulsed the Crest of Goneril, and as Byleth had shown her in whatever that vision was, flames emerged from the head of Freikugel, confirming beyond a doubt the death of her wyvern-riding opponent. 

The wyvern itself, now riderless, screeched in confusion and landed a short distance away, eyeing Hilda warily. With her uninjured arm, Hilda yanked Freikugel free, but lowered it. She knew she couldn’t reach that beastmaster on foot while she was injured like this, but perhaps on a wyvern… Calling on the crash course in wyvern riding Claude had given her, she lowered her voice and relaxed her stance before saying “Easy now, girl… I’m not gonna hurt you if you don’t hurt me.” The wyvern blinked in understanding and eased its posture, which brought Hilda no end of relief. Hilda called out to the wyvern again, pushing aside the pain in her ankle and shoulder. “Hey, I’ve got a nice, tasty horse there for you if you’ll give me a ride over to that lady. Interested?” The wyvern looked between Hilda, her fallen horse, and its fallen rider, but eventually it chirped and bobbed its head at her. Evidently its hunger won out over any lingering attachment for its old master, and the wyvern ambled over to Hilda, giving her a curious sniff before lowering a wing for Hilda to climb into the saddle. It wasn’t the most graceful mounting she’d ever done, but it would do. Now firmly in place, she gently nudged the wyvern up into the air, guiding it with her knees like Claude had shown her.

Once in the air, she took quick stock of the battlefield. Kamura’s forces had managed to link up with a couple isolated bands of Goneril soldiers, and they had been joined by Byleth’s team. Judging by the lack of any giant hawks in the northern skies, they had finished their work. She looked around nearer to her position, and spotted what was left of their hawk as it fell out of the sky, its corpse smoking slightly from the power of Lysithea’s magic. Lorenz and Leonie both tensed as Hilda’s wyvern shot upwards, but once they spotted her pink hair they relaxed, with Leonie giving her a shout and a wave. She smiled, then turned back to the beastmaster. She looked panicked, and was beginning to retreat. Hilda wouldn’t have that. Urging the Almyran wyvern forward, she pushed it into a dive, Freikugel raised high in her good hand. Almyran troops shouted as they caught sight of the blazing might of Freikugel in the air, and the beastmaster hurled a couple spells at her. She dodged around them, bringing Freikugel down just shy of the beastmaster.

Surging the power of the Crest of Goneril again, she pulled the wyvern back just in time for flames to erupt from the ground, engulfing the beastmaster. The wyvern gave her a frightened roar, and she stroked its neck as best she could while juggling Freikugel with only one good hand. Wheeling back south towards her fallen mount, she landed, though for whatever reason the wyvern didn’t seem to want to let her dismount. It snaked its head backwards, nuzzling at her leg. She looked confusedly at it for a moment, before a realization hit her that it was trying to care for her. “I guess you can tell I got hurt, huh? But what about your horse? I promised you.” It blinked slowly at her, then reached out and grabbed the fallen horse in its jaws. It lifted the corpse like it was nothing, and Hilda let out a shaky laugh. “Well, okay then. At least put it in your claws or something though, if you won’t let me go here. We need to go over towards my friends, over that way.” The wyvern followed her suggestion, and soon they took off again, heading back towards the massing of Goneril troops and Academy students in the center of the valley. 

Byleth took one look at her as she and the wyvern landed very unceremoniously nearby before rushing over, the rest of the soldiers apparently forgotten. Hilda could feel the wyvern growl at her sudden approach, but before she could warn her away, Byleth began to speak to it in some language Hilda had never heard before. Suddenly, the growling stopped, and was soon replaced by a… purr? Wyverns purred? That was news to Hilda, but then, this was probably some weird goddess thing, so it was probably best not to think about it too hard. Byleth, evidently having overcome the wyvern’s odd protectiveness towards Hilda, helped her down, and immediately started applying healing magic to her injuries. Soon, she could stand on her own, though her ankle and shoulder still hurt like hell. The wyvern happily tore into Hilda’s fallen horse while this process was going on, though it raised its head curiously as Hilda got ready to join Kamura to order everyone back to the fortress. She smiled, and scratched along one of the wyvern’s horns, and it chirped in satisfaction before returning to its meal.

She, Byleth, and Kamura stood in a loose circle. Hilda spoke first, since she was technically in command here. “Well, our group took out its hawk and beastmaster. How about you, Professor?” Byleth nodded, seeming more than a little worn out. “We had some trouble, but we managed to do the same. Without those beastmasters, all that the Almyrans have left is their conventional military forces.” Kamura shifted his weight, and let out a weary sigh. “We’ve managed to rescue most of the troops that we couldn’t account for, but we’ve suffered pretty heavy casualties. But, if it’s just their normal troops… Well, we should be able to hold out until reinforcements arrive now, at the very least.” Turning to Hilda, he bowed low. “Thank you for your assistance, Lady Goneril. You saved a lot of good men with this plan.” Hilda rubbed the back of her head. “Aw, well… I mean, I can’t take much of the credit. The Professor here’s the one who came up with it. I just swing an axe.” 

Byleth turned to the east, frowning. “We can save the congratulating for later. For now, we need to get back behind cover. The sun’s almost down, and we need to get Leonie and Ignatz on the walls to watch for oncoming wyvern riders.” Kamura nodded, and with a final bow to Hilda and Byleth both, he turned and barked out orders to the Goneril troops. The Academy students fell in behind the soldiers as they began marching back to the Locket, but Byleth and Hilda hung back. Eyeing the wyvern with a small smile, Byleth said “You should keep her. She seems sweet.” The wyvern looked up from its meal and gave the two of them another pleasant chirp, and Hilda laughed. “Yeah, I guess she is, isn’t she? I’d feel weird making her fight her family though…”

Byleth shrugged. “Well, it’s your choice, but given that the rest of us all still have our mounts, you’ll need something for mobility’s sake. No sense looking a gift wyvern in the mouth.” The wyvern finished its meal and got up, waddling along towards the two of them. It gave Byleth a curious sniff, but chose to nuzzle in towards Hilda’s leg again. She smiled. “Well, alright… Twist my arm, why don’t you?” Rubbing the wyvern’s horns, she spoke softly to it again. “What do you say, girl? Wanna come with me? You’ll probably have to fight other wyverns from Almyra, but if you’re okay with that…” The wyvern tilted its head slightly before letting out a small, clipped roar, and extending a wing for Hilda to climb on its back again. She smiled, and turned back to Byleth. “I guess we’ll see you back at the Locket, then?”

\---

The Golden Deer had spent far too much time that evening fussing over Hilda’s “captured” wyvern for Edelgard’s taste. To say nothing of how ridiculous it was to call it captured when it had seemingly joined Hilda in exchange for being fed, she could have sworn the scaly beast was purposefully acting meek and vulnerable under so many watching eyes. In that way, at least, she supposed it wasn’t too far off from its new master. Edelgard excused herself from the main gathering of students, intending to go find a secluded spot to look back over the walls towards Fodlan. 

Before she could get too far, she spotted Byleth stumbling back towards the bailey from one of the spots where the injured had been clustered together to await healing. She looked utterly exhausted, and after fighting the disastrous first attempt at their battle today and winding back time as far as she had, it wasn’t as though Byleth had had the energy to go off and heal soldiers to begin with. Setting her expression firmly into a scowl, Edelgard marched over towards Byleth, who had stopped to lean against a wall in an effort to catch her breath.

Byleth cracked an eye open as Edelgard took a position in front of her, hands on her hips. She smiled faintly, and said “Oh, hey El.” Edelgard clicked her tongue in annoyance. “Don’t ‘hey El’ at me right now. What were you thinking, Byleth? You were already exhausted when we got back in.” Byleth sighed, and sank down the wall, taking a seat on the stone floor. She patted a spot next to her, and Edelgard stiffened. After a moment of waiting to see if Edelgard would join her, Byleth sighed again, deeper this time, and began massaging her temples. “I had extra energy left, and there were wounded I could help tend to.” 

Edelgard pinched the bridge of her nose. “I understand that you feel as though you have to help people when you can, but those soldiers had the fortress’ healers as well as Manuela already. Why did you burn what little energy you had left?” Byleth shrugged. “If there’s more of them tomorrow able to fight tomorrow, that means more hands to hold off the Almyran forces until the reinforcements get here. Besides, it was the right thing to do.” Edelgard groaned in frustration. “The ‘right thing’, my teacher, would have been to rest like Manuela _told_ you to do. We’re going to need you out there tomorrow. How did you even get past her to start healing, anyway?”

Byleth frowned. “Well… Manuela was sleeping. She exhausted herself. I figured I’d just sneak in while she wasn’t there to catch me.” Admiration and frustration went to war inside Edelgard’s heart, and to buy herself time, she let out a long sigh, and looked upward towards the stars. The night was cold, as she had expected, but at least inside the walls of Fodlan’s Locket they were safe from the wind. Unbidden, her mind turned to the night of the feast again, and she felt heat bloom to life in her cheeks. As she looked down to check to see whether Byleth had caught her, she noticed that Byleth looked as though she was about to fall asleep, so she knelt down, catching the green-haired woman’s attention.

“My teacher… If you’re going to pass out in front of me, at least let me help you find somewhere better to sleep than this. You need to take care of yourself.” Byleth smiled again. “Ignoring that obvious bait, you’re hardly in a position to criticize me, you know. You work yourself just as hard as I do.” Shifting forward, Byleth reached out and gently took hold of one of Edelgard’s hands. She flinched at the sudden contact, which made Byleth’s smile fade a little. “Can we talk? You’ve been… off, ever since Remire.” Edelgard’s veins flooded with ice, and she quickly pulled back, standing up. Byleth looked crestfallen for half a moment, before locking it back behind a neutral expression. Remorse building, Edelgard began trying to speak, though she found it far more difficult than it ought to have been. “I… I’m sorry. That’s not…” 

Byleth held up a hand, stopping her attempt in its tracks. “You don’t have to explain. I’m sorry, you have boundaries, and I’m not respecting them. I just… I keep asking to talk about it because I’m worried. If you don’t want me to keep trying, I won’t. I just want to be sure you’re doing alright.” Fear lanced through Edelgard, and she half-shouted “No! No, I’m… I’m fine. I just don’t want to talk about that. There’s no point. Now, would you please go to bed? We’re going to need you at full strength, and taking time for this when you ought to be resting is a waste. Please rest.” Byleth’s expression was unreadable for a moment, but eventually she sighed and braced herself against the wall as she stood. “Alright. I’ll drop it. Just know that if you _do_ feel like you want to talk, you can come to me with anything. It’s not a burden, or a waste.” Cracking her neck, Byleth started off towards the spot in the barracks that had been cleared for the Academy group, but stopped after a few paces. 

“Goodnight, Edelgard. I’ll see you in the morning.” She turned her head back and gave Edelgard a small smile that didn’t quite match the emotion in her eyes, and then she was gone.

\---

Dawn came early, the first pale light of the sun peeking into Fodlan’s Locket reluctantly over the high walls. Byleth shifted upwards from the cot where she’d spent the night and rubbed at her eyes as the call to wake up went out. She felt _awful_ , and weaker than she’d felt in a long time. Not meeting Edelgard’s eyes as she slipped out of the barracks, she tried to make her way as stealthily as she could to the mess, but found her way blocked by a very disheveled Manuela. She tried a sheepish smile, but it only made Manuela frown at her. “I _believe_ I told you yesterday,” she started, an ominous tone in her voice, “to **take it easy**. I _assumed_ after you showed back up in here with magic fatigue that you were going to follow directions. Instead, I heard you went and used even more of your magic last night, while I was resting. Is that right?”

Byleth shrank a little - Manuela’s rebukes were more than a little intimidating, even to her - but did at least manage to nod her head. “I know you said to rest, but there were too many wounded for me to just leave there, and you’d fallen asleep, so it was just down to those two clerics, and…” She sighed. “You’re right. I’m sorry. And believe me, I’m already feeling the effects of it.” Manuela rubbed her neck, looking for a moment about as rough as Byleth felt. “Well… Fine, then. Don’t think this gets you off the hook with me, though… I swear, what in the goddess’ name _is_ it with you green-haired Church people? No sense of self-preservation…” She walked off, scowling, before Byleth could think of a response. She pushed the thought out of her mind as she got in line for breakfast. 

Grabbing her food, she found Lorenz, Raphael, Ignatz, and Hapi all sitting together. Hapi looked as though she were still half-asleep, but the Golden Deer boys were all already wide awake. Slightly cursing her luck to be at a table with morning people, Byleth focused on her food, marveling at how much better she felt with some of the semi-edible slop in her stomach. She left the mess, and decided to try to limber up a little in the fortress’ training yard. Along the way, she ran into Manuela again, who was talking to Hilda in hushed tones. As she passed close to the two of them, she heard Manuela gasp, and felt a hand on her arm. She turned around to find Manuela studying her. After a moment of scrutiny, the former songstress asked her somewhat incredulously “What did you _do_ since I saw you last?” Byleth answered honestly, which made Manuela frown for a moment.

Eventually, she shrugged. “I guess if you managed to heal half your side getting torn open in a few days, shaking off magical exhaustion this fast shouldn’t be much of a surprise either. Still, though…” Byleth brought a hand up to her dragonscale scarf, once again thankful for the precious gift the Saints had given her for her birthday. She felt a small pang of loneliness as her thoughts turned to Sothis, but that was quickly shaken away as the three of them heard the gate guard shouting orders to open the gates. Byleth, Manuela, and Hilda raced down to the entry, where the gates had been thrown open and the portcullis raised. Standing on the other side in traditional war cleric’s armor was Countess Diana, and behind her was an army several hundred strong. She smiled warmly at Hilda as she caught sight of her, and she called out “Good morning, dear! I hope we aren’t too late?”

The Locket was abuzz with activity over the next hour, and Byleth soon found herself standing next to Hilda, Diana, and Kamura at the head of a column of troops, ready to sally forth to break the Almyran army camped somewhere to the east. Edelgard caught her eye from one of the smaller columns that was poised to head out through the northern gate, but Byleth smiled and shook her head, trying to communicate that she was fine. Hilda looked a little nervous, and Byleth laid a hand on her shoulder, smiling as pleasantly as she could before a big battle. Hilda raised an eyebrow, but said nothing as she ascended the battlements to her waiting wyvern. Byleth waited below, nervously bouncing on the balls of her feet next to her horse. Hilda was bound to get into trouble if she swooped off on her own, and she was likely to get out too far unless she purposefully held back. Byleth resolved to stick close to her. Soon, the heads of each column blew war horns, and the Goneril forces poured out into the valley.

Almyran forces were arrayed in the middle distance, and they began their own charge as the horns’ call blared down into the valley. The two armies met in the middle of the valley, just past the bridges, and the fight quickly devolved into chaos as Goneril pikemen unhorsed Almyran cavalry left and right. Not wanting to get bogged down in a messy melee battle, Byleth charged up a blast of Aura, blasting open a path ahead of her as she chased after Hilda. She was battling other wyvern riders in the skies, but was at a distinct disadvantage due to her lack of a bow. Byleth whistled to get Leonie’s attention, and the orange-haired paladin started firing up at the Almyran wyvern riders with deadly accuracy. Byleth herself managed to rip a couple out of the sky with the Sword of the Creator’s whip, causing the Almyran forces to panic. She could hear them calling back for direction, and spotted their leader sitting on a stationary wyvern far in the back of their lines. She didn’t recognize the man, but he sported long, dark hair and the beginnings of a beard. If he survived this battle, he might go on to look somewhat like Nader… But his presence here unfortunately eliminated that possibility for him.

She spurred her horse forward, and their leader rose up into the air. He pointed his axe at her, crying out “Finally! A worthy challenge!”. She shook her head in exasperation, before dropping into a ready stance. The soldiers nearby backed away, leaving Byleth to square off with the man. He spurred his wyvern forward, letting out a fearsome war cry as he braced his axe arm against his body, ready to strike. Byleth waited for his first wild swing, dodging backwards and leaping over a follow-up strike his wyvern attempted to land on her with a sudden bite. Silently apologizing to the beast, she called on the Crest of Flames, forcing wyvern and rider backwards in time as it re-extended its neck. She gulped hard, and brought the Sword of the Creator down on its neck even as the surrounding soldiers began shouting about magic. The Almyran leader rolled off the back of his falling mount, righting himself and bringing his axe back up, anger clear on his face.

She closed the distance between them, swinging at half-speed to test the man. On foot, his axe work was quick and nimble, and Byleth was reminded more of Edelgard than of the clumsy strikes she associated with most who chose that weapon. Still, she had reach on him from her position on her horse. He attempted to cut her horse’s legs out from under him, but Byleth caught him just in the nick of time with her time reversal magic, and didn’t allow him the opportunity to try again. She extended the Sword of the Creator outwards, piercing it through him and flinging his axe away. He howled with pain, and dropped to his knees, clutching at his wounded shoulder. She slid from the saddle and kicked his axe further away, but he looked up at her without a hint of fear on his face. Byleth leaned in, and asked in soft Almyran “ _Have you made peace with your gods?_ ” The man’s eyes opened wide in surprise for a moment at his language coming from a foreigner’s mouth, before he nodded solemnly. Byleth raised the Sword of the Creator over her head, whispered “ _Go to them, then, son of Almyra_ ”, and brought it down.

The Almyran forces nearby shouted in dismay and anger at his death, and the soldiers nearby started to charge her. Byleth called on the Crest of Flames again, and amplified her voice using the same spell she had seen Rhea use for important events.

“ _Hear me now, soldiers of Almyra! You stand in the presence of one who speaks for Fodlan’s goddess, Sothis herself! Lay down your arms and flee, so that you will live to fight another day. Otherwise I will scatter your bodies to the wind!_ ” To emphasize that she was giving them a choice, she plunged the Sword of the Creator into the ground in front of her, resting her hands on the hilt so that it continued to burn bright red. She was vaguely aware of light streaming from her hair, something she’d noticed as a side effect from the last time she’d spoken while channeling crest power into her voice, before she spotted one particularly young-looking soldier throw down his axe. “ _This isn’t worth dying over, if she really is a god’s mouthpiece!_ ” he cried, and soon the soldiers near him followed suit. The Almyrans began laying down their arms en masse, and were soon fleeing back to the east, giving her a wide berth. Hilda landed beside her, giving her a confused look.

The battle for Fodlan’s Locket was over, at long last.

\---

The Academy party regrouped in front of the fortress, elated by their victory. Casualties on the Goneril side of the battle had been kept to a minimum, and the Almyrans must have suffered surprisingly few losses as well, as Hilda couldn’t see many of their bodies lying around. She felt relieved by that - even if they had instigated this, she still felt bad about having to kill so many of them for no reason. Cyril, on one occasion where she’d gotten him to talk about Almyra, had told her that the Almyran border skirmishes were never intended as full-on invasion attempts, but something different. Since he’d come to Fodlan at such a young age, he didn’t really understand why they did it (and found the whole thing stupid), but even that little bit of information fascinated Hilda. She wanted nothing more in that moment than to be able to ask Claude why they made those raids, but Claude… She sighed softly to herself. Claude was still being shitty and weird, and even though Byleth had assured her that he wasn’t an infiltrator from Those Who Slither in the Dark, it somehow hurt worse to know that this was just _him_ cutting her off.

Her wyvern perked its head up as a pained cry rang out in the valley. She followed its gaze towards the sound, and caught sight of something that made her blood boil. Several Goneril soldiers had surrounded a couple young Almyran warriors. They couldn’t be older than Cyril himself, and they were clearly trying to get away from the battlefield before being caught. The soldiers had tied two of them up, but the third was struggling. He was the one who cried out in pain earlier, and judging from his bleeding nose, one of her soldiers had struck him in the face.

Byleth saw it as well, but before she could say anything, Hilda had already spurred her wyvern into action, barreling towards the scene. She dismounted, drew Freikugel, and shouted “What the _fuck_ do you think you’re doing?!” The Goneril soldiers snapped to attention, quaking in their boots at the sight of her and that awful axe. Their leader stammered out “L-Lady Goneril? W-what are you… What’s wrong?” Hilda raised an eyebrow, advancing forward slowly.

“‘What’s wrong’?”, she asked, her voice low and dangerous. “Why don’t you tell me? What do you think you’re doing to these kids?” The man swallowed hard, and squeaked out “W-we’re just, you know… They looked like they’d be good servants! Those are standing orders, m-milady… Unless, is there something wrong with these ones?”

Hilda’s vision went red as her blood began to froth. She was about ready to cleave this _beast_ of a man in two, when she felt a hand on her shoulder. Whirling around, she found Byleth standing there, anger and concern on her face. Lorenz, Leonie, and her mother had all ridden after Byleth, and were making their way over with concerned looks on their faces as well. On top of it all, Diana looked guilty, which chilled Hilda to the bone. She hissed “If these idiots move, make them hurt” to Byleth, before stomping over to her mother. She didn’t have a plan, but that didn’t matter right now. Sometimes, you just had to wing things.

“So… Mother. Want to tell me why _our soldiers_ are taking slaves?” Diana winced, and lowered her head slightly. Hilda pressed on. “Because that one there told me that this was a standing order. We take _slaves_ , huh?” She pounded the pommel of Freikugel into the ground, letting its angry glow shine right in her mother’s eyes. Diana mumbled something, which Hilda didn’t catch. Upon being asked to repeat it louder, she said “They’re not _slaves_ , technically, t-they’re servants”, which made Hilda feel a bit lightheaded. She leaned on Freikugel until she could get her bearings again, then exploded. “ ** _OH! SO THAT MAKES IT BETTER?!_** ” Diana hung her head low, and barely managed to squeak out “No”.

Hilda roared in disgust, and stomped back over to the soldiers, who were watching nervously. She reeled back, and slugged their leader in the face with a crest-powered blow. He sprawled in the dirt, unmoving, and the rest shrank back in fear. Hilda waved Byleth over, before turning to the Almyrans. The looks on their faces were ones of sheer terror, and her heart broke as one of the bound ones whimpered out “Goneril..!” to his companions. Byleth laid a hand on Hilda’s shoulder, and said softly “What do you need, Hilda?” Hilda was now so angry she was shivering, but at Byleth’s touch, the shivering slowed. “I… Can you tell them that I’m not going to hurt them? I’m going to let them go.” Byleth nodded, squeezing her shoulder as she stood next to her, then bent down to eye level with the two Almyrans on the ground. She began speaking in Almyran to them, and their eyes went wide. 

Hilda stepped around behind the two bound ones, drawing a small knife and cutting through their bonds while Byleth healed the third’s broken nose. The three of them huddled together, still looking quite scared. Hilda whispered in Byleth ear again “Tell them that I’m going to make sure Goneril doesn’t try to take any more like them from now on, a-and to be careful.” Byleth smiled faintly, and relayed her message. The kids’ eyes lit up, and they started smiling too. The one who had been struck even said something back to her, which Byleth translated as “Thanks, lady! You’re like the queen!” Then, they scurried away, not wanting to see if anyone would change their minds. Hilda allowed herself a weak smile as she watched them go, before turning to the soldiers again. 

“You all, pick that one up, and get out of my sight. If I _ever_ hear about another incident like this, I’m coming back here, and I’m going to make you wish you’d never been born. Understand?” The panicked soldiers snapped a salute, shouting “Yes, Milady!”, and quickly carried their wounded comrade off. Hilda rounded on her mother again, but before she could start yelling, Lorenz stepped forward. “Now Hilda,” he began, “this is a long-lived tradition. It wouldn’t be right for you to take it out on Countess Diana when--” He froze under her glare, and wisely decided that silence was the wiser option. She growled at him “I don’t _care_ if it’s a tradition, it’s _wrong!_ Those were _children_ , Lorenz! You can’t honestly be alright with using _children_ as slave labor!” Lorenz looked as though he’d been struck for a moment, before sighing heavily. “I… I am not, no. I simply didn’t think that it was my place to criticize how another House managed its affairs.”

She stared at him for a moment, before she said “People aren’t ‘affairs’, Lorenz. Goddess help the people of Gloucester if you take over thinking like _that_.” Turning towards her mother, Hilda barked out “And you! You _knew_ about this?! How could you assume that I’d be okay with it?” A horrifying thought crossed her mind, and she added hesitantly “Is… Does Holst know? Does he condone this?!” Diana shook her head. “I can’t say if he does, Hilda, but… I did know, yes. It’s something that House Goneril has done for years and years now, since before the construction of Fodlan’s Locket. I-I…”

She deflated before Hilda’s eyes. “I never saw this side of it before. Goddess, it’s so much worse seeing it…” Hilda left her mother standing there, forlorn, and mounted her wyvern. “I’m going to go issue a counter-order. If you have a problem with that, you know where I live. If _Holst_ has a problem with that… Tell him to come fight me like a man, if he believes in it that much. If _this_ is what our house stands for, I want nothing to do with it.” She spurred her wyvern into the air, where it gave her a mournful screech. 

The next hour or so was a blur. Hilda came to herself again on the back of her wyvern as she flew above the Academy party on the road leading away from Fodlan’s Locket. She remembered yelling at Kamura, who saluted and promised to disseminate her orders… Selecting a punishment for the soldiers she caught… And then nothing. She became aware that someone else was on her wyvern with her, and looked back to find Byleth. From the concerned look on her face, she realized that Byleth must have seen her in a bad state, and convinced her wyvern to allow her to ride with Hilda.

She let out a long, shaky sigh. “That was… that was rough, Professor.” Byleth hummed behind her, before asking “Are you feeling better? Manuela said that you’d had some sort of break when we got back to the fortress, but your wyvern here wouldn’t let us put you on a horse in that state. She’s taken a real liking to you.” Hilda nodded, and silence passed between them as the wind rushed by. Byleth was leading the wyvern in a looping pattern, so as to keep the rest of their group in sight, and after a few minutes of staring at the clouds, Hilda suddenly felt very tired. Byleth asked if they should stop somewhere, but Hilda shook her head, and said quietly “The sooner we’re out of Goneril, the better.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter didn't want to be written! Hoo boy! Hilda's paralogue is such a nothing mission normally, and that bled into how little I wanted to work on this chapter even after I decided to make it very different from the actual mission in-game. Dividing the World is easily the worse of the two Almyra paralogues - at least Edelgard gets something interesting in having to fight Nader. To be honest I'm not super thrilled with how this chapter turned out, but I didn't want to delay posting it any longer than I have already.
> 
> The name for this chapter comes from the French name for Hilda and Cyril's paralogue. I like it better symbolically than Diving the World.
> 
> Perpetual stews are a fascinating cultural relic that are often associated with medieval European inn cooking, though there is a restaurant in Bangkok that's been using the same broth from a perpetual stew for 47 years and counting, and it's something that crops up from time to time around the world.
> 
> The dish Byleth mentions is ghormeh sabzi, a kind of herb stew from Iran ("sabzi" being a Farsi word meaning "herbs"). It does in fact include dried limes for flavor - the limes are usually boiled in a salt brine and left to dry until they harden, then get cracked open and placed in. It typically will feature a nice medley of different herbs like parsley, cilantro, leeks, and fenugreek sautéed in oil, then combined with something like kidney beans, and beef or lamb seasoned with tumeric and served with rice. It's got about as many variations as you could think of, but the main thing is that it's usually quite good.
> 
> There's no special reason I picked the name Diana for Hilda's mom other than just liking the name. Diana is etymologically related to words for godhood (dios, deus, theos, etc), and mythologically refers to the Roman goddess of the same name, who was the goddess of hunting, the moon, and chastity. Diana is the Roman version of Artemis, as well. Also, dowager countess is used here to differentiate Diana's title (which is still Countess) from Holst's title (which is Count). Holst is the actual ruler of Goneril, but his mother still retains her title by virtue of not being dead yet.
> 
> Nereus was the name of an early Christian saint and martyr. I picked that for Holst's middle name because Hilda's middle name, Valentine, is *also* the name of an early Christian saint and martyr. Nereus is reported to have lived during the first century CE, while Valentine lived in the third century, but that's actually fitting. Holst is older, after all.
> 
> I picked Kamura's name because the feeling this chapter evoked, at least until the second day of fighting, was very reminiscent to me of chapter 8 of Path of Radiance, where the Greil Mercenaries have to hold out in their fort against a Daein army led by a man named Kamura.
> 
> For Byleth's speech, I chose to imply that she was speaking all of this in Almyran rather than try for a translation into, say, Farsi, mainly because I am woefully monolingual in languages that people actually still speak today.
> 
> "The queen" that the Almyran kids referred to is, of course, Tiana von Riegan, the Demon Queen of Almyra. I like to think she got the name in part because she was as fiercely passionate about issues of equality as Claude is in canon - he had to get it from somewhere, right? Anyway hashtag girlboss or something. The final section was hard to write. I wanted Hilda to come face to face with this slavery thing because it really just gets glossed over in-game. House Goneril takes Almyran *slaves*, y'all. Cyril was one of them, after he got orphaned. That's fucked up.


	46. Love, and Be Silent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We catch up with Claude in Derdriu before Byleth and the gang spend the night with Lysithea's parents before heading out to battle Acheron. Harrowing revelations await them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CN: violence and torture. It's a battle chapter, but the in-battle violence is comparatively light this time. Instead, we focus on... The bad times. Our gang needs to make someone give them information quickly, and so one of them does a spot of torture to speed things along. If you would like to skip this section, stop reading at the line "How long that would last was anyone’s guess", and skip the next seven paragraphs. You're safe to resume at the paragraph that starts "His breath came in short, shaking bursts" - feel free to Control+F to it. A summary of the skipped content will be provided in the end notes.
> 
> Happy birthday, Lysithea. I got you, uhhhhhhhhhhhh. This.

Claude had a headache.

He had a literal one, of course, from the endless bickering and posturing from Count Gloucester since the emergency roundtable had begun. Even though the terms of succession had been _clearly_ laid out both in the founding charter of the Leicester Alliance and in his grandfather’s will, Count Gloucester had fought him for every single inch of ground he had taken over the last two days. Holst Goneril had, as expected, taken his side, and an unusually cheerful Margrave Edmund had surprised everyone by leaning more towards him than towards Count Gloucester, but this idiotic bullshit had gone on for far too long. Having everyone treat him like a teenager was _infuriating_ , but he knew better than to lose his cool where anyone could see him. 

The surprise arrival of Nader late last night had proven to be a metaphorical headache, as well. He knew Nader had been installed somewhere in Derdriu when he was first sent over to become the heir to House Riegan, but for the man to just show up unannounced like he had did nothing helpful for Claude’s blood pressure. Balthus had almost gotten into a fight with him, and as much as Claude would enjoy watching Nader get taken down a peg or two, his arrival at the palace meant that things were moving ahead faster than he’d expected. Of course, this whole affair had been the very definition of “faster than expected”, what with Oswald kicking the bucket early. Claude held no love for his late grandfather, but was at least a competent enough actor to display appropriate signs of mourning for the court and the other roundtable nobles, before locking himself in a chamber in the basement of Castle Derdriu with Balthus to work off some steam in nightly combat training, which was where Nader had found him.

Balthus, he had decided after the arrival of Nader, was good enough to hire on a permanent basis. It was just assumed that Nader, under his oh so clever alias as “Nardel”, was going to be one of Claude’s retainers, but there was no rule that said the Grand Duke couldn’t have more than one, as far as he knew. While Balthus had initially balked at Claude’s offer to take him on as his second retainer and make his issues with debt a thing of the past, he eventually relented. This, in turn, had the surprising effect of getting Holst Goneril even more firmly on Claude’s side than he already was - the two were apparently old friends, and Holst appreciated Claude looking out for Balthus. In truth, he would have done it without an extra incentive - while he wouldn’t actually admit it, Claude had come to enjoy having Balthus around. He was smarter than he looked, and every bit as tough as he looked. Hell, how he _looked_ wasn’t half bad, either…

Claude shook himself from his thoughts, earning a slightly raised eyebrow from Holst, who spotted his momentary lapse in concentration from across the table. Count Gloucester glared at him while continuing to drone on about something Claude didn’t care about, and Claude kept an affable smile on his face in response. One good thing about Nader’s quiet arrival the night before meant that he had been able to pass on a nasty little note to Count Gloucester, warning that if he misbehaved in the coming day’s roundtable, details of his shakedown operation on the road from Gloucester to Derdriu would be disseminated to interested noble parties. The man had no way to prove Claude was involved, and thus had no choice but to comply. When he finally shut up about whatever it was he was yapping about, Claude made a slight breach of decorum by bringing the roundtable to a finalizing vote on his installation as Grand Duke, now that he had the leverage to secure it.

An hour later, Claude was reclining in his old (or new, to everyone else) office, the official leader of the Leicester Alliance. Balthus and Nader were both in there with him, celebrating with a little of the Aquatic Capital’s finest rosé, when a sharp knock sounded from the door. Claude nodded to Nader, who opened the door to reveal an irate Count Gloucester. Balthus took up his position at Claude’s right hand, and Nader showed himself out as Count Gloucester swept into the room.

“Well… Congratulations are in order, my boy, aren’t they?” Claude let the corners of his mouth slide into a little sneer, before rolling his neck. “Oh, they are, but I’m afraid ‘your boy’ isn’t here to give them. No matter, though. I’ll see Lorenz soon enough myself. Now then… Is this an official matter of business for your Grand Duke, Count Gloucester? I am a very busy man.”

Purple eyes so similar to Lorenz’s locked on his face, glaring with barely restrained fury. After a brief moment, the Count took a small breath, and nodded. “I’m afraid that it is. You see, the terms of succession laid out in your grandfather’s will happened to include a piece of land that should not have been up for inclusion. I’m sure it was nothing more than a simple clerical error, but these things ought to be addressed promptly. If you’ll look here…” Count Gloucester produced a map of the Leicester Alliance, marking a vital garrison on the border between Riegan, Daphnel, and Gloucester with his finger. It was subtly altered to make it appear as though the garrison was actually within House Gloucester’s domain. Claude almost laughed out loud - how _predictable_ this man was! He had tried to weasel this garrison out from under Claude the last time he’d taken over, too, though Oswald had made certain to prepare him for it. The historic ownership of that plot of land was one of the things that he had drilled Claude relentlessly about in his old lifetime, to the point where Claude could recite it to him from a dead sleep. Count Gloucester had _no_ idea what he’d gotten himself into.

“Well, it’s funny you should mention that particular piece of land, Count. My grandfather, of course, had very detailed records for all of our house’s dealings going back centuries, even before the Crescent Moon War. Originally, that land _actually_ belonged to the County of Daphnel, but it was ceded to the Dukedom of Riegan as part of the marriage of one Claudia von Riegan, second child of Grand Duke Ludovico, to Alessandro von Daphnel, then-heir to House Daphnel. Not once since then has it left my house’s domain, nor was it ever part of the domain of House Gloucester. I have the contracts in the library somewhere, if you’d care to read them. But I’m sure a busy man like yourself has better things to do than peruse such things… Right?” 

Claude flashed the man a predatory smile, and leaned in across his desk. “I’m going to do you the courtesy of speaking frankly, Count. If you came in here thinking that I would be easy to push around because of your perception of my age and inexperience, well… You’re welcome to test that kind of assumption at your convenience. But don’t expect to make much headway. I’m a quick study. Now, if you’d be so kind, I have some official business to get to. Good evening.” Count Gloucester blinked a few times, looking as if he’d been slapped in the face. Fuming, he gave the tiniest inclination of his head that could possibly still be considered a bow, and said “But of course. Good evening… Grand Duke.” He turned on his heel and stomped out of the room, letting the door shut a little harder than was considered polite on his way out. Claude waited a moment, then burst out laughing.

Balthus joined him in laughter, wiping a little sweat from his brow. Count Gloucester had been one of his biggest debtors, before Claude had wiped that out, and Claude knew that seeing him made him nervous. He gave Balthus a small smile, then stood up quickly. “Well, come on, Balthus. We’ve got something to go pick up before dinner.” Balthus cocked his head. “Oh. I thought you were just dismissing the Count there. We actually do have business?” Claude nodded. “It’s nothing major, but let’s consider it… insurance. Come on, it’s down this way.” He led Balthus through a hidden door in his office, down a set of spiral stairs, and into a dusty corridor. Balthus lit a nearby brazier with a little magic spark, and the two of them forged ahead until they reached a heavy, reinforced door. Claude withdrew an old bronze key from one of his pockets, and set about unlocking the door.

It swung open with a groan of protest, and Claude motioned Balthus inside. They were in House Riegan’s treasure vault, and untold amounts of gold, silver, and precious items surrounded them. But Claude had eyes only for one object in that room. Walking forward, he drew a knife, and made a small cut on the pad of his thumb. He dripped some of his blood onto a golden object that bore a passing resemblance to Hanneman’s crest analyzer. The Crest of Riegan shone up from the mechanism, and a series of clunking noises signaled that it was working. Ahead of him, a small sarcophagus slid out of the wall. He opened it with slightly shaking hands, revealing his prize: the dragonbone bow, Failnaught. Idly, Claude wondered who this bow had been in life, before taking it from its resting place. It glowed bright red, illuminating the darkness around them and glinting off of the other items in the vault. Claude experimentally tested the string, feeling a familiar surge of power just from holding House Riegan’s Relic weapon again.

“Oh, yeah. That’s more like it.”

\---

Partially because of Hilda’s request to leave her family’s domain as quickly as possible, and partially because the closest inn on the direct route into Gloucester territory was too far to reach before nightfall, Byleth and Manuela opted to take the road south-west into Ordelia territory. The Ordelia manor was only a few hours from the border with Goneril, and after Lysithea Warped herself there and back to confirm that her parents could put them up for the night, their party picked up their pace. The Ordelia manor came into sight as the last light of the sun dipped below the horizon. It was a relatively small and run-down place as noble manors went, which spoke to the precipitous drop in status that House Ordelia had experienced in the years since House Hyrm’s failed revolt. Edelgard felt a weight in her stomach growing heavier and more unpleasant the closer they got to the manor, and by the time they walked through the doors, she felt as though she was going to be sick.

The Count and Countess were sociable, if visibly haggard. Count Ordelia had short, thinning strawberry blond hair and a stern face, while Countess Ordelia had brown hair streaked with grey, and eyes of a similar color to Lysithea’s pink ones, though without the tell-tale sheen that came from bearing two crests. They stood in the entrance to their manor, enthusiastically greeting each of Lysithea’s classmates in turn as she introduced them. There was a slight pause and an increase in tension when she introduced Lorenz, but it wasn’t until Lysithea got to Edelgard that her parents reacted physically. Edelgard could see from where she was that both of them had begun to clench their jaws, and the Count balled his hands into fists before he was able to master himself. Rather than sensing any hostile intent, though, Edelgard could only detect fear. The weight in the pit of her stomach grew heavier.

Keeping her voice as calming and even as she could, she extended the typical courtesies, and went further than was required of her station by bowing to the Ordelias. All three of them, Lysithea included, shared a look of surprise at this, though it was quickly pushed to the side as Lysithea introduced Manuela and Byleth. Risking a glance at Byleth, Edelgard noticed that she was incredibly on-edge. Her hand kept twitching towards the hilt of the Sword of the Creator, though she never allowed it to make contact. Her eyes roamed the hall, and Edelgard realized with a start that she was searching for any remaining influence or presence from Those Who Slither in the Dark. Edelgard’s heart began to beat faster, and she managed to stall Hilda and Byleth in the hall as their party was led to the dining room for dinner.

Glancing around quickly, Edelgard hissed to Byleth “Targeted Muffling, now!” Her green eyes widened for a fraction of a second before she set to work. Once she nodded to indicate the spell was active, Edelgard launched in. “If your nerves are from what I think they are, then it’s best that the three of us from our group--” “The Secret Time Travel Club,” Hilda butted in. “What? It _has_ a name.” Edelgard stared daggers at her until the pink-haired girl raised her hands in surrender, then continued. “As I was saying… It’s best if the three of us are on the same page. You think Those Who Slither could still be lurking around here, don’t you?” Byleth nodded, her mouth set in a grim line.

“It wouldn’t make sense for them to just abandon this place, unless their research lab for what was done to the Ordelia family wasn’t here. We’re close enough to… Well, I suppose… Hmm.” Byleth looked to be getting lost in her thoughts, so Edelgard snapped her fingers a couple times. “My teacher please, focus. One thing at a time.” Byleth looked a little embarrassed, and rubbed the back of her head as she said “Ah, right. Sorry.”

She sighed deeply, and double-checked her Muffling. “We’re very close to Shambhala here, so it’s not out of the question that the Ordelia children were taken there instead of to a lab under this manor. We need to be prepared for anything tonight, just in case, but I don’t think the Count or Countess is on their side. Even so…” Hilda looked confused. “I… Wait, hold on. What did the Slithery people do to Lysithea’s family?” Byleth widened her eyes for a moment, before pinching the bridge of her nose and cursing under her breath. “I… Damn. I would have thought you’d either figured it out by now, or gotten it out of someone who knows the truth. Okay. The short version is that what happened to Edelgard also happened to the Ordelia family. Only, they were a test run, of sorts. Lysithea’s lifespan is dramatically shorter as a result of it, though she does bear two crests.”

Hilda looked horrified, but before any of them could speak further, they heard Lysithea’s voice coming from nearby. “Professor? Edelgard? Hilda? Where are… Oh. Um… Did you get lost somehow?” Her eyes darted around the hallway, looking at the three of them and, to Edelgard’s dismay, the Muffling marks that Byleth hadn’t been able to dispel yet. Opting not to ask what they were doing, Lysithea shook her head, and continued on. “In any event, please come with me. Dinner is being served now - Mother and Father asked the chef to make pheasant with berry sauce! You’d better hurry, or I’ll eat your portions, too.” Chuckling at Lysithea’s exuberance, the three of them followed the last Ordelia child into the dining room.

After dinner, the count invited them to talk openly while the servants got their quarters ready. He looked a little sheepish, and admitted that their accommodations would be a bit more cramped than what he would have liked to offer them. Lysithea quickly offered to house someone else in her room, which brought out a quick flash of relief on her father’s face. After that matter was settled, Lorenz asked a question that had been on Edelgard’s mind as well: “If I may, Count Ordelia, was there not an emergency roundtable meeting? Has it ended already? And if so, what of Claude?”

Count Ordelia leaned back in his chair ever so slightly, and tented his fingers. “Well… I had only just Warped back here myself when Lysithea came by to ask if we could host your group. The meeting is indeed over, and, as per Duke Oswald’s wishes, Claude von Riegan is the new Grand Duke of Leicester. Moreover, he’s already gotten a pair of retainers, who are going to manage things in his stead while he finishes out the year at Garreg Mach. One I’ve never met before - a man named Nardel, who apparently came at the recommendation of Lady Tiana, wherever it is she’s been hiding all these years… And the other is from House Albrecht.” An odd look crossed Count Ordelia’s face. “Balthus, the former heir of that family. A good man.”

Hilda looked shocked, but said nothing. Lorenz nodded, a slightly pained expression on his face. After a moment’s deliberation, he said “Well, I suppose it speaks well of him that he does not intend to cut short his education. I, er… I am somewhat surprised that my father went along with this so quickly. It cannot have been more than two days of discussion, at the least.” Count Ordelia chuckled wryly to himself. “Count Gloucester was consistently opposed, until he suddenly was not. His change of heart occurred the same day that the man I mentioned, Nardel, arrived at court. I shall leave you to discuss the details with him, though. Lysithea tells me that your group is going to head up into Gloucester to take care of a minor border dispute in the morning?”

Lorenz nodded, puffing out his chest ever so slightly. “Quite so. I am certain that this comes as no surprise, but Acheron is stirring up trouble again. I fail to see how the man has slithered his way out of consequences so many times, but it is my intention to see him punished for this latest stunt, regardless.” All three Ordelias stiffened at the mention of Acheron, though Lorenz hadn’t managed to notice. Edelgard arched an eyebrow, looking towards Byleth. The green-haired woman nodded slightly in return, confirming that she thought it suspicious as well. Their conversation wrapped up after a few more minutes, moving from weightier topics into more pleasant small talk almost immediately after Lorenz was satisfied in his efforts to gather information. The students retired to a few of the manor’s guest rooms. Lorenz, Ignatz, and Raphael shared one room, Leonie, Hapi, and Hilda another, while Lysithea led Edelgard to her own quarters. Manuela and Byleth were rooming together, which meant that Byleth came to Lysithea’s room almost as soon as everyone had settled in.

Lysithea’s room was… cute. There wasn’t really another way to say it - the room was every bit what Edelgard had expected from Lysithea, and the dark mage seemed thoroughly embarrassed to have other people in it. The walls were a pastel pink, and matching pillows covered the head of Lysithea’s bed. A plush pink rug occupied the middle of the room, the kind Edelgard could imagine would feel _divine_ to lay on for a short while. Several bookshelves, filled to the brim with magical theory books and other such serious topics, stood proudly in the corner next to an oaken desk, but even this study space had a touch of Lysithea’s love for the adorable as a particularly time-worn plush rabbit sat upright in her desk chair. To make room for Edelgard to sleep, a company of stuffed animals were demoted from their place on the sofa, and Edelgard noticed that Lysithea snuck the rabbit from her desk chair over to her bed when she thought neither Edelgard nor Byleth was watching. 

Rather than appearing apprehensive about Byleth’s presence, Lysithea seemed to regard it as completely normal, which Edelgard supposed saved some time. It would also allow her to speak more freely than she would have otherwise, since Byleth could save her from a verbal slip-up, if it were bad enough. Looking to Byleth to see if she would speak first got Edelgard a shrug, so she steeled herself as she sat down on the sofa.

“Lysithea… I noticed that you and your parents seemed a little apprehensive when the topic of conversation turned to Acheron. Has he done something to wrong your house in the past?” Lysithea fidgeted uncomfortably in place for a moment, before sighing, and pulling out her desk chair to sit in. Byleth, seeing that she was going to sit, opted to sit on the floor right in front of the sofa, leaning her back against it. Edelgard felt a pang of loneliness, but this was brushed aside as Lysithea finally spoke. “Acheron… Er… How much do you know about what happened to my family, Edelgard?” 

Edelgard didn’t answer immediately. She wanted to explode into her story, how she knew exactly what Lysithea had gone through because she had lived it as well, but… She knew that this wasn’t the best way to go about this. She shifted her legs up under her, and looked Lysithea directly in the eye. “I know quite a lot about your situation. More than you may realize, in fact. We are quite similar, in several ways. But to actually answer you: I know that your house attempted to aid House Hyrm when they tried to defect to the Leicester Alliance. House Hyrm was punished severely, and House Ordelia was more or less abandoned to face consequences from the Empire. Officially, those consequences were economic sanctions only. How does Acheron fit into this, as we move into the realm of the unofficial?”

Lysithea watched Edelgard carefully, sizing her up. Her pink eyes scanned every inch of Edelgard’s face, lingering on her own lilac eyes and white hair. Understanding dawned on the girl’s face, before being locked away behind a determined expression. “My family tried to escape, once. This was early on, before things got really bad. My parents, brothers, and I bundled ourselves into a carriage, and stole away in the dead of night. We were trying to reach Garreg Mach, where we could seek sanctuary, and the most direct route led into Acheron’s territory, north of the Great Bridge of Myrddin.” Her hands, which had been clasped on her knees, curled into fists.

“That… horrible man. He stopped us with soldiers at his back. He said that if we knew what was good for us, we would turn around and return to Ordelia. I was too young at the time to realize it, but he would have attacked us if we hadn’t obeyed him. Rather than risk our lives fighting Acheron, my parents returned, and the destruction of my family began. Acheron is one of the reasons I am the last Ordelia child. I… I hate him.” Turning to Byleth, she added “If I face him on the battlefield, Professor, I want you to know that I have no intention of holding back. All of my anger, all of our suffering… I’m going to pour it into him.” Byleth, rather than cautioning her, or telling her to control herself, simply hummed to herself. After a moment or two of silence, she said “Well, so long as you leave enough of him for Lorenz to be able to report back with, that’s fine. Don’t melt him completely, or anything like that.”

Edelgard started to protest, but the jubilant look on Lysithea’s face stopped her. It was a look she knew all too well, and one she was almost certain she had worn when Byleth first told her that there was a way to fight against Those Who Slither. She cleared her throat, and placed a hand over her heart. “Lysithea… I swear to you that I will help you avenge them. Acheron will pay… As will all those who were behind what happened to you and your siblings.” Lysithea’s eyes blew open, but before she could do more than say Edelgard’s name in a shocked tone, Edelgard continued.

“This isn’t an idle promise, either. For me, your situation is all too familiar. I… When I was younger, I wasn’t the heir to the Imperial throne. In fact, I was the ninth child of eleven in the line of succession. Dark mages in plague masks imprisoned us beneath the palace at the behest of the Prime Minister and the other nobles who seized power during the Insurrection of the Seven. All ten of my blood siblings succumbed to their torture, and I alone survived, changed like you. When my time at Garreg Mach draws to a close, I am going to build a world where no child will suffer for the sake of crests or status… And the road to that ambition lies over the graves of the fiends who twisted and defiled our bodies. If Acheron was the one who cast you to the wolves, his corpse will line that road too.”

Edelgard noticed that she was breathing heavily by the end of her speech. Byleth had turned around at some point, and had placed a hand hesitantly near Edelgard’s on the sofa. She wasn’t touching it, but the concern on her face was more than enough to make up for that right now. Looking past her teacher, Edelgard studied Lysithea’s face. She wore a blank expression, though if her past interactions with Lysithea were anything to go by, this meant she was deep in thought. After a few moments, Lysithea nodded, and her expression hardened.

“You probably already know this, then, but I bear two crests because of what they did to me. The Ordelia family is distantly related to House Charon of the Kingdom, and minor Crests of Charon were always fairly common in our lineage. My father has one, my older brother Ares had one, and I have one. The masked mages you mentioned… They forcibly implanted the Crest of Gloucester in me. I think Acheron was acting on Count Gloucester’s orders when he turned us away. I don’t have proof, but giving me _that_ crest… It all seems like it’s too much to be a coincidence.” 

Edelgard nodded. “If you’d like, we can interrogate Acheron on the battlefield before he meets his end. I doubt that it will do all that much good, but at least you might be closer to the truth. In my experience, that is worth more than people imagine.” Byleth brought a hand to her chin, and spoke after a moment’s thought. “If the two of you are dead set on that, then I’ll find a way to keep Manuela away from the side of the battlefield he’s on. You might have no choice but to bring Lorenz with you, though.” 

Lysithea sighed and rubbed her forehead. “Honestly, I don’t care. Let him hear what his father did to my family. Maybe it might make him more considerate, and less of…” She paused, searching for a word to describe precisely what Lorenz _was_. “A prick?”, Edelgard volunteered. Lysithea’s expression brightened as she laughed. “Yes, exactly!”

After a few moments, Lysithea yawned heavily. Byleth took that as her cue, and stood up to leave. As she excused herself to Lysithea, she gave Edelgard a look that she was unable to interpret. Frustration built in Edelgard’s chest, and she gave a very stiff “Good night” in return when Byleth excused herself to her. Guilt and a dash of panic flooded in afterwards, but it was too late to do anything now. Byleth left the room, and Edelgard sighed wearily. The two white-haired Black Eagles got ready for bed in relative silence, and though Lysithea was able to fall asleep relatively quickly, peace eluded Edelgard that night.

\---

The morning of the 26th of the Red Wolf Moon was dreary and cold. None of the students seemed all that keen to get underway, and even Lorenz looked somewhat subdued despite the fact that they were riding off to do his noble duty. A light, misting rain settled over them as they traveled, precisely the kind that Byleth hated the most. It wasn’t heavy enough to bother throwing a rain cloak on for or taking shelter to wait for it to pass, but it was still present enough to leave everyone thoroughly damp and miserable. They were officially making for Acheron’s manor, though Byleth knew well enough that he wouldn’t be there. She subtly altered their party’s course, leading them towards a small garrison north of the Great Bridge of Myrddin where she knew they would find Acheron’s forces. As long as their timing was correct, they would probably catch the man himself inspecting the take from his thieves, which meant that they could immediately launch into battle. 

Stealing a glance at Lysithea, who had decided to ride close to Edelgard, showed that the young dark mage was determined, which was good. Determination would help her to stay strong enough to face down Acheron without Byleth there to watch over her. She wanted to think that Edelgard could watch Lysithea in her stead, but she had been acting so strangely for this entire trip that Byleth was hesitant to rely on her implicitly, like she otherwise would have. Turning her gaze towards Lorenz, she noticed that he was adjusting his appearance nervously. Slowing her pace until she had fallen in beside him, she snapped him out of his nervous thoughts by clearing her throat.

“Oh! Professor. I didn’t see you, my apologies. Was there something you needed?” Byleth shrugged, and the two of them rode on in silence for a moment as she tried to find a good wording for what she wanted to say. Eventually, she found it. “Lorenz… Last night, you said that you intended to make certain that Acheron suffers the consequences of his actions. How far are you willing to go in that conviction?” Lorenz hesitated a little before answering, which struck Byleth as the correct response to a question like that. “I would prefer that he be alive to face justice, if that is your implication. But, should he perish in the fighting, I suppose the world would be no worse off for it. However, I strongly doubt that he will fight to the death, especially when he realizes who I am.”

Accepting his answer as good enough for him to be Edelgard’s problem, Byleth next dropped back towards Manuela. The former songstress greeted her as cheerfully as the dismal weather would allow, and the two of them rode on while making companionable small talk until the scent of blood wafted towards them. Byleth stiffened, casting her eyes about to find the source. She didn’t have to look hard - several destroyed wagons came into view, along with the bodies of slain travelers. As Byleth pointed them out, she noticed that a few of them were still clinging to life and urged her horse forward, Manuela hot on her heels. Dismounting, she and Manuela took inventory of the wounded. One of them choked out that they’d been set on by Acheron himself, which sent the students into a frenzy. Manuela frowned, and told Byleth to lead everyone into battle without her. Byleth agreed, but insisted that Raphael and Ignatz should stay with her to make sure she wasn’t ambushed. 

She agreed to this, and the two boys watched nervously as the rest of the group rode ahead. About ten minutes down the road, Byleth split their remaining forces up into two teams. She placed Lorenz in charge of one team with Edelgard and Lysithea, and took Hapi, Leonie, and Hilda with her on the other. Lorenz’s team was in charge of tracking down Acheron, while Byleth’s team of more mobile fighters was to sweep through Acheron’s bandits and clear the garrison ahead to ensure no more of them were waiting in ambush. If anyone was confused at Byleth issuing orders like these without seeing the battlefield first, they didn’t express it, instead drawing steel and charging onwards.

Byleth’s group split off as soon as the garrison came into view, and tore into the very ill-prepared men they found lining the road along the way. Evidently Acheron’s forces hadn’t expected to see any resistance whatsoever, as a few of them were completely unarmored. Leonie let arrows fly as they rode, striking with precision on these softer targets. Hapi, meanwhile, took aim at the few heavily armored soldiers they could see, her magic doing terrible things to the flesh inside their rather conductive armor. Byleth and Hilda had reach and speed on the troops they came across, and struck terror into all that had the misfortune to stand against them, at least for the brief few moments they had left to them in which they could feel much of anything. 

When the last of the troops in the garrison fell, Byleth placed Hilda in charge and raced off to find Lorenz’s group. It wasn’t very hard - Lysithea was in rare form today, and had left a trail of magical wreckage in her wake. She spotted some evidence of Fire spells, too - either Lorenz or Edelgard’s work, though it was hard to tell which one had sent the spell out from a charred corpse. It didn’t help matters that Lorenz had, in the wake of his class’ loss in the Battle of the Eagle and Lion, taken up the axe to work towards becoming a heavily-armored great knight. He and Edelgard now left very similar trails, especially with her on a horse for this battle. She rode hard, and eventually found her quarry. Lorenz was advancing on Acheron and a couple of his personal-- scratch that, _one_ of his personal guards, for Lysithea had un-made the second one with a round of Dark Spikes as Byleth approached. Acheron heard the hoofbeats from her horse, and his face paled when he realized that it wasn’t anyone coming to help him.

Lorenz crowed triumphantly, saying “Give it up, Acheron! We are in the right. If you try to remain here any longer--” Acheron, a defiant sneer on his face, cut Lorenz off. “What, you'll kill me? A kid like _you_ , kill someone like me? Oh, that's too funny.” The sweat on his brow told Byleth that he was posturing more than anything else, but she remembered Acheron being at least a semi-formidable mage compared to her students in their Academy days. Before she could call out to warn Lorenz, he shot back “An animal like you cannot be allowed to run amok. We will settle this here and now!” He hefted a silver axe in one hand, and conjured a Fire spell in the other. Acheron responded by readying a Blizzard spell, and shouting back at Lorenz. “If you think you're up to the task, then by all means! But it's not my fault if it ends badly fo-- GAHHH!!!”

Lysithea struck while Acheron blathered on, hitting him at full force with a Luna spell. He was launched backwards, landing against a tree while his body was wreathed in purple flames. He looked to still be alive when he landed, so Byleth quickly dispatched his remaining bodyguard and rode to intercept Lysithea so that she didn’t get carried away. The anger on her young face was chilling to see, though her expression softened ever so slightly as she caught sight of Byleth. Edelgard and Lorenz rode up next to them, and Edelgard dismounted just as Lysithea reached Acheron. She laid a hand on the dark mage’s shoulder, and gently steered her away from Acheron’s body while pulling free her own dagger. Lorenz looked concerned, but a sharp look from Byleth convinced him to stay quiet, at least for now. How long that would last was anyone’s guess.

Bending down to rest on one knee, Edelgard slapped Acheron across the face hard enough to split his lip. He blinked, dazed for a moment, then looked up at Edelgard, across to Lysithea, and back and Byleth and Lorenz. There was terror in his eyes, but before he could speak, Edelgard flashed her dagger in front of him. “My friend here wants certain information from you, information we know you have. You’re going to tell us, one way or the other… How painful this is for you is entirely up to you.” He looked back at Lorenz, and said “Wait, hold on! P-please, Lord Lorenz, I beg you, stop this woman!” Byleth gave Lorenz another stern look, and he held his tongue. Edelgard gave him a lighter slap this time, and said “Keep your attention here, Weathervane. He’s got nothing to do with this right now.”

Turning to Lysithea, Edelgard’s expression softened. She nodded for Lysithea to ask her first question. The dark mage stared at Acheron for a moment, then asked “Do you know who I am?” The cowardly noble nodded, stammering out “Y-you’re Lysithea von Ordelia. Of course I know you!” Lysithea set her face in a grimace. “Then you’ll have no problem telling me about the time you turned my family back with armed soldiers, right?”

Acheron’s eyes went wide, and he opened and closed his mouth several times without making a sound. When he found his voice again, he simply said “Ah, w-well, that was so long ago now… I can hardly be expected to-- YOWCH!!” Edelgard brought her dagger down on the tip section of Acheron’s left pinkie finger. He cried out in pain as she rocked it back and forth before drawing back, though nowhere near as much blood came out from his wound as it should have without anything to stem the flow. Byleth noticed pale flames running across the surface of Edelgard’s dagger - she had used Fire magic to cauterize the wound immediately after inflicting it. Edelgard tutted at Acheron, drawing his attention back to her. “There’s no point in lying. We already know what you did. We want to hear it from you. If you’re particularly attached to the rest of that finger, or the remaining ones that are yet uninjured, I suggest being truthful and forthcoming.”

Acheron’s head lowered, and he let out a heavy sigh. “I… Fine, okay. Whatever. I blocked the Ordelias’ escape attempt all those years ago. I was under orders to return them by force if the count didn’t comply willingly, so this was actually the better outcome.” Edelgard’s eyes narrowed, while Lysithea glared down at Acheron. A spark of dark magic wreathed around her left hand, and Byleth debated having them cool off a little before continuing. Edelgard took that choice from her when she asked “Explain exactly why you did this: who ordered you to force them back to their territory, and for what purpose?” Acheron swallowed hard. “W-well, I mean… W-when I said that I was, er, under _orders_ , what I meant was--” He let out another pained yelp as Edelgard drove her dagger home again, this time moving up one knuckle on the same finger. She dug it around, and pulled it loose, taking the majority of his finger off with the violence of her movement. 

Acheron began panting for breath, and all the color drained from his face. “I… I-I… Please don’t make me say this. He’ll _kill_ me!” Edelgard leaned in very close, grabbing Acheron’s chin in a vise-like grip. “What makes you think I _won’t?_ Do you have any idea who I am? I am Edelgard von Hresvelg, heir to the Adrestian Empire. But you? You’re just a pathetic little _worm_ of a man, riding on ill-gotten noble status and growing fat off of the blood of your people. If you want to survive me this day, you’ll **start talking**.” She let go of his face, leaning back to her original position. Lorenz looked deeply uncomfortable with this situation, but Byleth could tell that he was too invested in hearing who had subjected the Ordelias to (at least as far as he knew) Imperial sanctions that ruined her house’s fortunes and led to the deaths of Lysithea’s siblings due to “illness”.

After a moment of pained breathing, Acheron sighed again. “I… I was under orders from Count Gloucester. He promised to turn a blind eye to some of my, er, indiscretions, if I sent the Ordelias back.” Lysithea looked as pale as a ghost - while she suspected this to be the case, it was still harrowing to hear it for herself. Edelgard nodded, then prompted Acheron again. “And the reasoning he gave you?” Acheron lowered his head, and said in a small voice “Punishment. Even back then, Count Gloucester cozied up to the Empire. I don’t know why he did that back then, or why he does it now, but that’s what I was told. It was a punishment for House Ordelia interfering in Imperial business.”

Edelgard’s eyes narrowed. “Are you _certain?_ You aren’t overlooking anything? Any _other reason_ behind it? Think carefully…” She ran the tip of her dagger along the top knuckles of his left hand, light enough to not leave a mark. Acheron looked away from her for a moment, and Edelgard decided that that constituted enough rebellion to warrant another strike. She plunged the dagger down, destroying the top knuckle of his left pinkie while he howled in pain. Rather than wiggle the blade around, she held it perfectly still before drawing it back up, which left Acheron with a hole below the remains of his left pinkie, rather than a clean amputation. “Next time, I think we’ll try _lower_. A wretch like you shouldn’t have any use for that, anyway. I’d be doing the women of the Alliance a favor, honestly.”

His breath came in short, shaking bursts, and it took him a moment longer to recover than it had before. When he had calmed down slightly, Edelgard prompted him again. This time, he answered right away. “I… The count said that some associates of his were going to… to fashion a suitable bride for his heir from the youngest Ordelia child.”

All four of them gasped at that, and Lorenz and Lysithea looked at each other in horror. Edelgard looked like she was going to be sick. In her place, Byleth barked out: “Continue. How exactly was that going to happen?” Acheron nodded weakly, and began speaking again. “He said they were going to… to do something to… to the youngest” - he pointedly avoided looking at Lysithea as he said this - “that would make her all-but guaranteed to bear children with not just minor Crests of Gloucester, but Major ones. I don’t… I don’t know the details about that, I swear! That’s all I was told!” His eyes pleaded at Byleth to save him, but the anger that had begun to burn in her chest made her want to drive her sword through his heart then and there.

Edelgard raised her dagger upwards again, bringing it down a hair’s breadth away from the Weathervane’s most prized possessions. She looked him in the eye, hate on her face. “You aren’t even worth the effort it would take. But as I said, you are safe… from me.” She took back her dagger, wiping it off on Acheron’s robes before she sheathed it, then stood up. She laid a hand on Lysithea’s shoulder, and asked her in a gentle voice, “What do you want to do, Lysithea?” Lysithea closed her eyes, evidently deep in thought. Byleth supposed it was better that she was still in a place where she would have to think about this. It was one thing to end a life on the battlefield, but it was quite another to kill someone who couldn’t resist you anymore. Byleth almost wanted to suggest that she could kill Acheron in Lysithea’s place, but when the dark mage opened her eyes again, they were full of determination. She looked up at Lorenz, and asked him “Do you have any objections?”

Lorenz swallowed hard, and shook his head. “Do what you will - you more than have the right.” Lysithea nodded, and Byleth, Edelgard, and Lorenz moved back a few paces. Lysithea called forth a huge amount of magic, and Byleth felt the unsettling aura of Hades Omega in the air a few moments before Lysithea unleashed it. Her twin crests burned above her right hand as she cast, and her spell obliterated Acheron, the tree he was resting against, and a fair amount of the earth beneath the tree. Her shoulders heaved from the effort of casting such a powerful blast of that dark spell, and she seemed slightly unsteady on her feet. In an instant, Byleth was at her side, readying the healing spell she and Linhardt had developed for moments like this, when Lysithea’s crests caused damage to her body. Byleth didn’t even wait for her convulsions to start before pouring healing energy into her body. Lysithea, her voice weak, managed a quiet “Thank you, Professor” as she flopped against Byleth’s chest, completely spent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since this is a very Lysithea-centric chapter, I want to point out where the title comes from. Many of you may recognized it as one of the Big Lines of the character of Cordelia in King Lear. Since Ordelia as a name comes from Cordelia, I figured it was fitting.
> 
> I'm not gonna lie, this Claude section was almost entirely because I saw Legendary Claude in Heroes and went "oh right, I should do other POVs besides the main group here". He's very broken, it turns out. Falling Star OP.
> 
> Ludovico von Riegan, which is an abomination of a name linguistically speaking, was named for the final doge of Venice, Ludovico Manin. The Leicester Alliance has always had an Italian city-states vibe to me, so it's where I like to draw inspiration for names. Plus, Claudia is a fairly standard Italian name, so it makes sense. Likewise, Alessandro von Daphnel takes his name from the first duke of Florence, Alessandro de Medici.
> 
> Translator's note: "You're welcome to test that kind of assumption at your convenience" is noble-ese for "fuck around and find out"
> 
> Lysithea, in Greek mythology, is the mother of Helenus of Troy by Zeus. For the one brother that Lysithea says the name of, I opted for another Zeus-adjacent name: Ares, son of Hera and Zeus, the god of war. Ares is also the name of Eldigan the Lionheart's son in Genealogy of the Holy War, so it's a layered reference. Fun fact: Helenus was also recognized as the son of King Priam of Troy, and had a sister named... Cassandra. The Crest of Charon comes full circle baby. Another fun (?) fact: Lysithea's father is named as Evenus, who was possibly one of Ares' sons, meaning that Lysithea von Ordelia's family tree is about as fucked up in terms of names and origins as the Lysithea from Greek mythology.
> 
> me: *writes about how I hate relational drama in a recent endnote*  
> also me: *spends every chapter of this arc writing tension between Byleth and Edelgard, whomstdve are the principal ship of the fic*
> 
> I'm working on an interlude chapter to take a peek back at what's been going on at Garreg Mach while Byleth has been away - expect that either today or tomorrow, depending on how fast I can finish it up. It was originally part of this chapter, but got split off because it was too long, and kind of messed with the emotional impact of things.
> 
> Also holy shit - we're now over 300k words and 10k hits? This is absolutely buckwild. I'm so happy people are enjoying this story I've been telling.
> 
> \---
> 
> Summary of the torture scene: Edelgard begins her interrogation by spelling out that Acheron's fate is in his hands. Lysithea asks Acheron to talk about the time that he sent her family back to their fate. Though initially unwilling to talk about it, he is convinced by Edelgard, and mentions that he was under orders to return them to their territory either by getting them to comply or by attacking and capturing them. Edelgard asks who his orders came from, and after more convincing, he reveals that it was, in fact, Count Gloucester who gave the order. In exchange for Acheron's help, Count Gloucester was prepared to turn a blind eye to some of Acheron's activities. Edelgard is, understandably, upset by this. He then explains that he was told that it was both punishment for House Ordelia, and something more. When he initially resists telling them what that something more is, Edelgard threatens to chop his dick off.


	47. Interlude: News From Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A look at what some of our cast got up to without Byleth around.

**\- 12th of the Red Wolf Moon, Imperial Year 1180 -**

Flayn had a fire in her stomach that she hadn’t felt in a long time. The people of Ochs and Hevring needed her, and she was not going to let them down. She stormed off as fast as her legs could take her, and began running through what she knew of Linhardt in her mind even as she descended the stairs to the ground level of the monastery. He was exceedingly lazy for one with as sharp a mind as he possessed, though she found it somewhat endearing. The fact that he was descended from her dear friend Godwine, to whom she had given her blood in the days before her long restorative slumber, made him feel like family even if he was decidedly human. She considered, briefly, checking each and every one of his hiding places, but was saved from this by running into Lysithea, who appeared to be heading up to the library.

Smiling warmly, Flayn said “Ah, good morning, Lysithea! Have you seen Linhardt around? I have a matter of some urgency to speak with him about.” Lysithea smiled back at Flayn, then brought her hand to her chin as her cheeks took on a pinkish hue. After a moment, she nodded to herself. “Well, I had breakfast with him, Caspar, and Hilda earlier today… I believe he said that he was going to be doing some reading in the chapel of the Four Saints in the cathedral for a while - you should check there first.” Flayn stiffened slightly - being near her statue, which Uncle Timotheos had crafted in such exact detail, was more likely than she would have wanted to blow her cover to Linhardt, but the people of Ochs and Hevring _needed_ her. She nodded resolutely, thanked Lysithea, and marched across the bridge towards the cathedral.

It being a Wednesday, the cathedral was largely deserted. A quiet worshipper sat in the pews here and there, and a priest was busy up at the front exchanging some of the incense in the censors for fresh stock, but aside from them not a soul was in sight. Steeling herself, Flayn slipped into the chapel, finding Linhardt lounging on a pew in front of her statue, a book in hand. She cleared her throat, and he snapped his attention upwards. His eyes brightened when he realized who had entered the room.

“Ah, Flayn. Good morning. I hope I’m not interrupting your prayer time.” Flayn smiled softly, and shook her head. “No, nothing of the sort. I actually came here looking for you. I need a favor from you, as it happens.” Linhardt sighed, marked his place in his book, and snapped it shut before motioning to the end of the pew he was on. Flayn sat down primly, hoping that Linhardt wouldn’t begin sneaking glances at her and the statue.

After a moment of silence, she realized that he was waiting for her to speak first… Which meant that he likely already had a term for her favor. Resisting the urge to sigh, she began to speak. “I find myself concerned about the people down wind from the explosion in Remire. I once read about a certain compound that, when refined properly, could help with the lingering effects of magical explosions. In truth, I had no idea what sort of explosions would require a special medicine beyond simple healing magic until Remire, but if ever there was one, surely this would be it.” Linhardt nodded along, looking engaged.

“As such, I’ve come to ask you for a favor. The compound itself, according to my source, was primarily found as a byproduct of saltpeter mining in Hevring territory. Thus, I wanted to know if you would be willing to write to your father and inquire about the mining operations your family maintains. I can provide a detailed account of what to look for, and though I would rather mix up the medicine from it myself, any decently competent White mage or alchemist could do it from written instructions I could include as well. Would you be willing to do this for me?”

Linhardt closed his eyes for a moment, leaning his head back. Eventually, he spoke up. “Well… I suppose a normal person might feel a little guilty asking for repayment for this, but I never once claimed to be a normal person. I’d be happy to write to my father and include your notes, but only if you’d be willing to answer a couple questions about your family history. After all, a Major Crest of Cethleann is almost unheard of even in House Hevring, much less from someone with no connection to our house. Then, there’s the fact that your brother possesses the Major Crest of Cichol, which is also exceptionally rare.”

He waved his book gently. “In the long histories of the Hevring and Aegir families, there have been a few intermarriages here and there, but there was only one recorded instance of a sibling pair with the same Crests that you and Seteth have, and theirs were minor variants. Surely you understand my curiosity?” 

Flayn shifted uncomfortably in the pew. “I… Yes, I suppose it would be natural to be curious. However, I truly cannot tell you anything about my family that you do not already know. To quote my brother, we ‘came from nothing’. I _can_ , however, offer you an interesting tale about Saint Cethleann that I can almost guarantee you have not heard before.” The green-haired mage hummed in thought for a moment, though it was obvious to her that he was merely pretending to be less interested than he actually was. After a few moments, he broke into a smile. “Well, I believe that would be fine as repayment. Go ahead, then.”

Flayn cleared her throat, and launched into a slightly edited story. “This tale takes place at the dawn of the War of Heroes. Saint Cethleann, her father Saint Cichol, and Saints Macuil and Indech had recently joined with Saint Seiros and the future emperor, Wilhelm Paul Hresvelg. They spent some time gathering allies, many of whom would go on to found the great noble houses of the Empire. One such ally in their struggle was a man by the name of Godwine, the progenitor of House Hevring. He, like Saint Cethleann, was a healer, and as such the two of them worked closely over the course of many battles to save the lives of countless allied troops.”

Her expression soured. “One day, the pair were ambushed by enemy stragglers after a battle. They were away from their comrades, and Saint Cethleann was young, and unused to combat. Godwine threw himself in front of a blow meant for Cethleann, shielding her at the cost of suffering a mortal wound. In anger, she slew his attacker, taking a life for the first time, rather than saving one.” Flayn looked down at her lap, and breathed in deeply.

“Godwine would have died from his wound had Saint Cethleann not utilized an ancient healing spell now lost to history. Using her own blood as a catalyst, she poured life back into his veins, healed his wounds, and bestowed upon him her Crest. And before you ask - no, I _don’t_ think this means that Cethleann was Godwine’s wife. All the tales I’ve ever read of her say that she passed from the world unmarried.” Looking back up at Linhardt, she found him staring very hard at her.

After a few uncomfortable moments, Linhardt spoke. “Well… You were right. I _hadn’t_ heard that story before. It’s Church history that says the Four Saints passed their Crests to their allies from the War of Heroes, but I had always thought that happened a little more… conventionally. So… Crests can be passed by a transfer of blood? That seems as though it would contradict Church teaching, doesn’t it?”

Flayn shrugged, wanting very much to get out of this conversation. “All I know is that I trust my source for this tale. Whether it matches up exactly with dogma is less important to me. N-now then, I’m afraid I have stayed too long. My brother wished to speak to me about my time in the Black Eagles over lunch. But before I go, was that sufficient payment? Will you help me?” Linhardt regarded her briefly before nodding. She flashed him a smile, and before he could speak again and potentially trap her in another conversation, she bid him farewell and slipped out of the chapel.

  
  


**\- 13th of the Red Wolf Moon, Imperial Year 1180 -**

Claude waited patiently, listening to the sounds of a late autumn evening outside as Byleth scribbled three brief letters. Normally, he would have strictly refused to play messenger, but this offered him an easy chance to find out what was so important for Byleth to get out before she left. It wasn’t strictly _necessary_ for him to know, but the gods had seen fit to give him a double portion of curiosity. Rather than staring down at Byleth and having to think about everything about _that_ situation, he took the opportunity to scan around the room. Byleth was consistently utilitarian when it came to interior decorating, regardless of what form he was in. _She_. Claude’s mood soured instantly as he corrected himself. He forced himself to continue looking around the room, noticing that there was hardly anything that announced that this space was even lived in besides small messes. Paper scraps on the desk caught his attention, but that kind of exploration would need to wait until Byleth was gone, and no one who would care could catch him.

From behind him, Byleth made a small humming noise, then said “Done. If you could deliver these two to Lysithea and Leonie, and this one to Macuil, I would appreciate it. Lysithea and Leonie at least need to get this by the time the Golden Deer leave, since I’m asking them to go with you.” Claude raised an eyebrow. “That worried about our chances? Well, I suppose the Deer are down a few. It’d be nice to fight alongside them again.” Byleth nodded, a serious look on her face. Claude shrugged, and pocketed the two letters for his former classmates. Brandishing the last letter, Byleth said “As I said, this one is Macuil’s. I’m sure you’re going to read it anyway, so I’ll just take the fun out of it for you and tell you what it says. I want to lay the Relics to rest once our war with Those Who Slither ends, and I was thinking about either commissioning or restoring sacred weapons to replace the Relics. Noble houses would be generally more willing to part with their Relics if they had something of similar power to replace them with, and Macuil forged the existing sacred weapons anyway, so he’s the perfect one for this job.”

Claude nodded, absorbing that information. Balthus had mentioned wanting to hand over Vajra-Mushti to Byleth, and had only been convinced otherwise after Claude pointed out that they still had need of his Relic gauntlets’ power for the sliver of the plan he was privy to. If Byleth was going to remove the other Relics from play… Well, that suited him just fine. As she handed over the third letter, she paused. “You know… Once you get Failnaught, the same applies to you. I’ve already got Macuil working on refurbishing the Holy Regalia. I want to give you, Edelgard, and Dimitri each one of them to replace your Relics.” 

Claude sucked in a breath - Byleth didn’t intend to let him keep Failnaught, then. That probably should have been obvious from the way she was talking about laying the Relics “to rest”, but still… He nodded, snatching the letter from her. “I’ll get these to their proper owners, don’t you worry. Have fun with your Lion cubs.” He swept out of her room, a scowl on his face.

  
  


**\- 15th of the Red Wolf Moon, Imperial Year 1180 -**

A pounding sound woke Bereth. His head and body ached - too much drink again, he chided himself. Cethleann would be disappointed if he didn’t get his act together, but some nights were so _hard_ … The thrum of his heartbeat sounded like someone banging a drum in his ears, and he curled in on himself, willing his body to stop punishing him. The pounding continued, but as he gradually woke up more, he realized that the sound wasn’t actually coming from his body at all. Focusing on it, he realized that it was, in fact, coming from the door to his quarters. He pushed himself upwards, standing unsteadily, and pulled on a robe to cover his bare chest. As he hurriedly tied it while approaching the door, he called out “Half a moment!”. This seemed to satisfy whoever was knocking at whatever ungodly hour it was, for barely any light was filtering through his windows. He collected himself briefly in front of the door, then pulled it open enough to peer around to see who had come calling.

Unsurprisingly, it was Cethleann. Despite his current condition, he managed a small smile at her, which she returned enthusiastically. “Good morning, Bereth!”, she called out. “May I come in? I have something to ask of you.” Shuddering at the juxtaposition of those familiar words coming from _her_ mouth rather than her father’s, Bereth stepped aside, waving Cethleann inside. He closed the door behind her, and turned to face her. For half a second, he could have sworn that her face was crinkled up like she had smelled something offensive - he didn’t still smell of alcohol, did he? - but when he looked again, she was all smiles. She pulled him into a tight embrace, holding it a little longer than usual. Cethleann let out a small sigh, her head near his chest.

“You had a difficult night again.”

It wasn’t a question. By now, he knew better than to try to fool her, or even to act surprised that she noticed his state. Instead, he simply nodded. Reluctantly, she let the embrace end and pulled back enough to look up into his eyes. He let her look her fill, feeling uncomfortable as she studied him. She frowned a little, then reached up, healing magic in her hands. Relief swept through his body as her magic got to work, soothing the pounding in his head and the aches in the rest of his body.

Satisfied, she stepped back, taking a seat in one of his wingback chairs. He followed suit, dropping heavily into the other one. They were silent for a moment, before Cethleann asked “Was it about Byleth again?”

He nodded, no longer meeting her gaze. “I wasted more time. I… I _need_ to tell her the truth, but I was so worried after the explosion, and I… Now she’s off to do Goddess knows what in Leicester, and I’ll probably not see her for another week. I’m just tired of wasting time.” Cethleann hummed, folding her hands in front of her. “I know how much this has been weighing on you. I even suspected that you might have had a bit of a hard night. So… I prepared something I _know_ you’ll be able to enjoy.” She leaned towards him, a conspiratorial glint in her verdant eyes. “Tell me, Bereth… Have you heard of the Fodlandy?”

Bereth blinked.

“The… Fodlandy? What is that?” Flayn cracked a grin at him. “Why, the Fodlandy is only the rarest and most dangerous freshwater fish in the entire continent! Legend says that one makes its way to Garreg Mach every five years or so, in the middle of the Red Wolf Moon, whereupon it devours all the fish in our pond. Its coming heralds a great storm blowing down from Faerghus that covers the Oghma Mountains in thick snow.” She stood up, raising her arms triumphantly. “And today, Bereth! Today is the day! You are familiar with the fishkeeper, Charles, correct? He informed me that the fish in the pond were behaving unnaturally skittish earlier this week, and told me of the legend of the Fodlandy. Then yesterday, Father got a report of a massive blizzard in Gautier territory. It should be here tomorrow. It all fits!”

Bereth chuckled. Cethleann’s enthusiasm was infectious, even if he didn’t buy this “Fodlandy'' business for a moment. Still, for her to go to this much trouble to cheer him up… He was touched. “Well… I suppose we had best go and catch this mighty fish, then. We wouldn’t want it to eat all of the other fish in the pond. Give me a moment to get, er, presentable, and I’ll head right down to the docks with you.” Flayn beamed at him, and quickly left his quarters. He shook his head, still smiling to himself, and got dressed.

\---

Flayn was practically vibrating with excitement as the two of them neared the docks. Charles the fishkeeper was already out and about despite it being before seven bells, and he gave the two of them a hearty wave as they approached the main dock. When she mentioned that they were there to hunt the Fodlandy, he grew quiet. Wordlessly, he produced a key, and unlocked a small cabinet in his stall. Reaching inside, he grabbed a container, and pressed it into her hands. She opened it up and gasped - it was premium bait, the kind that both Bereth and Byleth had been reluctant to use because of its high cost. When Bereth protested, Charles shook his head. “Anything that gets rid of that monster is fine by me.”

Gasping once more, Flayn asked “Wait, the Fodlandy is already here?!” Bereth looked equally stunned, but the fishkeeper simply nodded grimly. With as much seriousness as she could muster (for she was _delighted_ that it had actually decided to show up), she swore that the two of them would rescue the fishing pond from its tyranny, and she and Bereth proceeded down to the end of the dock, fetching sturdy poles and baiting their hooks.

Bereth eyed the point of his hook carefully, before saying “We should ask for a container with water in it for any normal fish we catch. That way, we can save them from the Fodlandy, and perhaps also have a meal or two from this whole affair.” Flayn nodded, and made their request to Charles. Soon, they each had a small tub full of water behind them, and they started fishing in silence. The monastery woke up around them as they worked, and by the time the bell tower tolled out eight bells, the two of them had already caught a sizable amount of normal fish each. They were running low on the premium bait, which worried her. Would Charles be understanding of them using his entire stock of it if they were unable to catch the Fodlandy?

She cast her line again, waiting for any sign of interest. She was getting a little discouraged, despite their absurdly good haul for a normal fishing trip in the tubs behind them. She sighed, and leaned her head against Bereth’s shoulder. “I fear we may not be able to find the Fodlandy, Bereth. What if it flees because it senses pursuit?” Next to her, Bereth hummed, and the vibration from it made an odd, soothing sensation on her head. “We must keep trying. But even if it flees, we have still done a good thing by saving this noble pond from danger. Charles will be grateful for that, if nothing else.”

Flayn was about to agree with Bereth when she felt an almighty tug on her line. It threatened to pull her into the pond, and she only managed to stay in place when Bereth wrapped his arms around her waist, abandoning his pole entirely. She stood up with him, the two of them locked in a fierce battle with their underwater assailant. Alone, she certainly would have stood no chance, but Bereth refused to allow her to be pulled into the water. Slowly but surely, the two of them managed to pull more and more of the line in, and backed away from the dock’s edge.

Finally, with immense effort, they succeeded. A shimmering purple fish as long as a lance and about as thick around as a wyvern’s tail flopped onto the dock behind them, and Charles the fishkeeper pounced on it to prevent it from squirming away and back into the pond. Of course, this sudden removal of any resistance on their line meant that the two of them were thrown backwards as well. Flayn landed on Bereth’s chest, causing him to sputter and cough as all the wind was knocked out of him. She lay there in a daze for a moment, before realizing where she was. She hurriedly rolled off of him, and the two of them lay side by side, panting from their battle. Then, miraculously, Bereth started to laugh. It was quiet at first, but got louder and more boisterous by the second. Flayn joined in as the ridiculousness of their situation struck her. The two of them lay next to each other for a solid minute, laughing and smiling at each other. 

Finally, they picked themselves up. Flayn offered to heal Bereth if he suffered any injuries, but he assured her he was fine. Charles called out from behind them, and they turned to find him bowing. “Thank you ever so much for this! To think, I would live to see someone actually _catch_ a Fodlandy…” He shook his head, and began ogling the fish again. After a whispered conference with Bereth, Flayn walked up to him. “We would like for you to keep it. Though I imagine it _would_ taste delicious, I’m certain that it would make for a fearsome trophy. Perhaps you could dedicate it to Saint Cethleann?”

Bereth snickered next to her, but the fishkeeper nodded enthusiastically. He apparently intended to do just that, and rushed off to the town market to begin the process with the Fodlandy in tow. Still smiling, Bereth looked down at Flayn. “I wonder if Saint Cethleann will enjoy her new trophy?” Flayn slipped her hand into Bereth’s, causing his eyes to widen in surprise. “I imagine that she will”, Flayn replied. “I know I enjoyed catching it… Though I would say that seeing you smile like this is what made the trip a success.” Bereth hesitantly tightened his grip, interlacing their fingers. “Well… I…” He swallowed hard, and smiled sheepishly at her. “When I do things like this with you… I forget who I am for a moment. It makes me happy, even though I--” 

Flayn squeezed his hand, making him wince slightly. “You deserve to feel happy, Bereth. Everyone does.” She sighed - if her heart could beat, she imagined it would be pounding almost out of her chest right now. “Being with you makes me happy too, in case you were wondering.” The two of them stood there for a moment or two longer, growing slightly red-faced, before Flayn gave his hand a tug. “Come on, then. The day has only just begun, sir!” She flashed him a mischievous smile, and led him onwards, hoping for all the world that she would never have to let go of his hand.

  
  


**\- 16th of the Red Wolf Moon, Imperial Year 1180 -**

Seteth tapped his leg, a frown on his face. When he’d agreed to give this seminar, he had assumed that it would take place in the training grounds, as any other weapons training seminar would. And yet, the massive storm that he had gotten a report about two days earlier had other plans. Garreg Mach was under assault from its fierce winds, and anywhere exposed to the open air was currently being buried beneath snow. Ferdinand von Aegir, an extremely eager (and early) attendee from the Black Eagle house, had suggested that they move the seminar into the Black Eagles’ homeroom, since Byleth was away on business with the Blue Lions. Seteth could see the logic in the idea, but now, he was regretting his choice.

Perhaps sparring with swords would be more suited to a space of this size, but a proper lance duel was going to be difficult to pull off. Still, in for a penny… He selected one of the training lances he and Ferdinand had brought from the training grounds, and brought it up into his preferred battle form, cringing internally as he called it “an historical stance used by warriors in the days of the War of Heroes”. It was what _he_ would use if forced to fight on the ground, but these students did not need to know that. He segued into explaining other styles from across time, including (to Leonie Pinelli’s delight) the style popularized in Faerghus at the turn of the last century, which Jeralt Eisner had used for years both in service to the Church and as a mercenary.

As the seminar neared its close, he invited Ferdinand to the front to spar with him. Ferdinand was a conscientious lad, and Seteth was fairly confident that they could keep the damage to their space to a minimum as a result of that. The young noble accepted eagerly, quickly readying himself before leaping into battle with all the vigor of youth. Their lances crashing into each other felt almost nostalgic, and if Seteth squinted, he could almost pretend that he was sparring with his friend Aldbern once again. Memories washed over him, and in spite of his normally serious demeanor, he began to smile.

It was short-lived, though, as Ferdinand’s Crest of Cichol activated and smashed through Seteth’s training lance, catching him in the side. He hissed in pain as a little of his blood slipped down onto the floor. In horror, he quickly positioned himself over it to obscure the greenish fluid from view, simultaneously calling on his magic to seal up the small wound. Ferdinand apologized profusely to him, seemingly embarrassed that his Crest had activated without his having meant to use it. Seteth assured him that it was fine, and that being at the Officer’s Academy meant that he was here to learn control over all of his abilities. He was yet young, and complete mastery over a Crest took years of work to develop - a rather convenient half-truth that ignored the fact that the Crest in Ferdinand’s blood was likely calling out to Seteth’s heart from being so close to him.

He ended the seminar shortly thereafter, and wiped up the green blood on the floor with distaste once all the students filed out. He gauged the intensity of his pain, and realized that Ferdinand’s strike must have broken a rib or two. Gritting his teeth, he decided that the only thing for it was to visit Manuela in the infirmary. He had tried to avoid spending time around her lately - something about that woman had clouded his mind ever since the day she had found him in the chapel of the Four Saints. He had been, as was his wont, reaffirming his oath to protect Cethleann before her statue, and the topic of conversation had somehow turned back to her incessantly guessing at his “ideal woman”. She had even gotten the idea in her head that he was _infatuated_ with Saint Cethleann, a horrifying thought if ever there was one! Still… She was an adept healer. Perhaps while he was there today, he could set the record straight.

Manuela took one look at him clutching at his side and tutted, ushering him into the infirmary. The nature of his wound meant he would have to remove his jacket and undershirt, which earned a barely-restrained gasp from Manuela. Fighting very hard not to blush in embarrassment, he described his injury, and she set to work checking it. While she worked, he turned her misunderstanding over in his mind, and eventually settled on a way to broach the subject that would most likely suffice. It came uncomfortably close to revealing more of his identity than he would like, but that was the price for allowing his devotion to be seen in the first place.

He cleared his throat. “Manuela… About what we discussed in the cathedral the other day, with regard to Saint Cethleann. I feel the need to correct your, ah, misapprehensions.” Manuela lifted her head up, studying his face for a moment before she laughed softly. “Oh, don’t worry so much, Seteth! I won't expose your passion to the light of day. I told you I can keep a secret. I _am_ this monastery’s counselor, after all.”

Seteth shook his head, a hair’s breadth away from letting a growl enter his voice. “That’s not it, not at all! You misunderstand... But I suppose it is only natural. To that end, allow me to tell you a very old story of mine.” Manuela cocked her head to the side, obviously intrigued.

Seteth sighed deeply before beginning his tale. “I… I once had a wife. She passed from this world a very long time ago. She was wise, kind of heart, and always smiling. A most wonderful woman. Not long after we married, we were blessed with a child. A girl, the light of my life.” He allowed himself a small smile, and shook his head wistfully. Manuela hummed for a moment, then asked one of the questions that he had been dreading. “You had a wife and a daughter? Why would you keep that a secret?”

Seteth clenched his fist, something Manuela caught out of the corner of her eye. His voice was much harder when he responded. “All to protect my daughter. That has been my foremost concern, ever since I had the… misfortune to lose my wife. Ah, but, you see, it is my daughter who resembles Saint Cethleann. That is why I make my oath to her statue.” Manuela said nothing for a few moments, continuing to work at his injury. He kept surreptitiously checking to make sure no blood was leaking out of him from it, but thus far he had had no cause for alarm.

Eventually, Manuela spoke up again. “I hope you don’t mind me saying so, but… Your story doesn’t sound quite right to me. Before, when we talked about your ideal woman, your description was almost exactly a match for Saint Cethleann. Now you’re telling me that your secret daughter resembles the Saint you’re infatuated with?” Seteth blinked a couple times, bewildered. “I… What? What in blazes are you… No, actually, do not answer that. As I said, my daughter _resembles_ Saint Cethleann, but I can assure you that she is neither proper nor quiet, like the Saint is reported to have been. And please, I am _not_ infatuated with Saint Cethleann. I do not know why I must repeat this over and over again…” He sighed again, already wearied by this conversation.

“In any case, even and especially in matters of love, an ideal seldom lives up to reality. That is the way of the world.” He spoke without really considering what he was saying, and recoiled slightly as Manuela laughed heartily. He stared at her for a moment until she calmed down. Wiping her eyes, she smiled at him and said “Oh, do it again! Say ‘the way of the world’ with that same serious expression! Honestly, Seteth, even though you're so stern and proper, you really can be quite funny.”

Seteth shook his head. “My wife used to say the same thing. I never quite understood what she found to be so humorous.” Before he could lose himself in memories, Manuela gasped theatrically. “Ah, so I sound like your late wife, do I? Don't tell me... I actually resemble her too, right? Mirror image, I’d bet.” Seteth felt his cheeks growing hot, and he pointedly looked away from Manuela so that he could lie more effectively.

“Absolutely not! She… No. A-anyway, we have gotten terribly off-track here, Manuela.” The former songstress let out a smaller laugh, and leaned back to grab for some bandages. “Oh, I don’t know about that, Seteth. The way you said that, I suppose I must resemble her a little… Well, I consider it an honor, if she was even half the person you seem to think she was.” He didn’t know how to respond to that, so he said nothing. Manuela wound bandages around his core, the two of them sitting in silence for a moment. As she finished, she let her hand linger over his wound a little longer, though her touch was not _uncomfortable_ per se. 

She brought her other hand to her chin, tapping at it for a moment. “Say, Seteth. Have you ever considered remarrying? Many widowers go on to remarry, either for love, or simply so that they aren’t alone.” Seteth’s mind went blank for a moment, before he regained himself. “I… No. It is not a thought that has ever crossed my mind. I have been too preoccupied with fatherhood, and the stresses of my position as advisor to the archbishop.” Manuela nodded, handing him his undershirt so that he could re-dress.

“Well… It's been a long time since your wife passed, right? You might give it some thought. I know for a fact that there are many people who find you quite handsome. Better than that, I’d say that everyone who knows you knows what a good heart you have. Perhaps there’s someone close to you who’s interested.” In a small voice, she added “Perhaps closer than you think.”

Cheeks reddening at her implication, Seteth stammered out “I-I’m sure I didn’t quite hear you, whatever you just said.” Letting out a short huff, he continued to speak. “But, I suppose on the whole… Truthfully, I had never considered remarrying until you brought up the idea. And my daughter… She would not wish for me to remain alone forever… Hmm. I suppose this bears more thought. I… Thank you, Manuela.” He pulled on his jacket again, only to look back to find Manuela smiling at him. Stars but she looked so much like Eithne like that… 

Swallowing hard, Seteth bowed ever so slightly. “I appreciate your excellent medical work, as always… As well as your discretion.” Manuela chuckled to herself, and nodded. “Of course, Seteth. Wouldn’t want to scare you off, now would I? In any event, if you want to talk more about this… or about anything, for that matter, my door is always open for you.” His breath hitched for a moment, and he nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Manuela simply smiled, before adding “Ah, and, if you would take care not to get run through on a student’s lance again I would appreciate it, as your physician and friend.”

  
  


**\- 19th of the Red Wolf Moon, Imperial Year 1180 -**

Flayn and Bereth were seated in the dining hall, enjoying a lovely lunch of bourgeois pike, when Linhardt flopped down into the seat next to her. The surprise on Bereth’s face indicated that he had missed Linhardt coming in, and she was certain that her own face had a similar look of surprise on it as well. Linhardt, however, was fairly unbothered by disrupting their lunch, and held a letter up triumphantly. “Father’s reply came in earlier this morning. I think you’ll be pleased.” Flayn blinked for a moment, then gratefully took the paper from Linhardt’s hands while he helped himself to a little peach sorbet that he had evidently brought with him.

_Linhardt,_

_I was quite pleased to receive a letter from you without having to send one myself first. Garreg Mach must be doing more for you than I expected it to._

_In any event, I shall be brief, as much is uncertain right now. The explosion in Arundel has both myself and Baron Ochs quite worried, so receiving the notes and instructions from your friend Flayn have done much to allay our fears. I sent a man to the old saltpeter mines, and can confirm that the compound we were told to look for was indeed exactly where she expected it to be. I do not know where a commoner girl would get information on old Hevring mining activity, but I thank the Goddess she did. As for her medicine, we have prepared a test batch, and enclosed it with this letter. Have her test it to ensure that it is what she intended before replying to this letter._

_She seemed quite insistent about handing this medicine out to the populace at large despite there being no widespread sickness as of yet. I admit to being somewhat skeptical of this request at first, but finding her compound has convinced me to at least give it some thought. She mentioned a potential contact for easy distribution - have her make this connection for us if at all possible._

_Finally, my son, while I know you have no desire to hear this, I wonder if perhaps this girl might be more than just your fr_ \--

Flayn immediately put the letter down, her face reddening almost instantly. Linhardt looked up from his desert, a look of comprehension dawning on his face. “Oh. Ah, right. My apologies, I should have warned you about the end.” Flayn shook her head. “It… It is no trouble, Linhardt. I suppose I ought to be somewhat flattered? I-in any event, that is not something that, er, interests me.” Linhardt nodded, looking somewhat relieved. “Ah, good. While I’m sure you’re a lovely person, I don’t feel that way about you either. Ah, but, forgive me - would you mind coming by my quarters later? I’ve got the medicine there.”

Flayn nodded eagerly as Bereth put a hand to his chin. “This is about Remire, right?” Both green-haired healers nodded in unison at him, causing him to chuckle. “Well then… If it’s distribution Count Hevring is worried about, I’d suggest you talk to Yuri. He has contacts all across Fodlan. Most of his influence is within the Kingdom’s borders right now, but I am nearly certain he could help out in Ochs and Hevring.” Linhardt hummed for a moment, before looking to Flayn. She nodded, adding “Yuri was indeed the person I was thinking of. He’s a very resourceful man, you know.”

Linhardt, having finished his desert, nodded and stood to leave. “I’ll send a note his way when I go into Abyss later - you wouldn’t _believe_ the kinds of things one can find in the library down there.” Giving each of them a wave, he sauntered off, leaving Flayn quite bemused. Looking over at Bereth, she smiled. “He’s quite an interesting one, is he not?” Bereth hummed in agreement, and the two of them returned to their fish.

  
  


**\- 20th of the Red Wolf Moon, Imperial Year 1180 -**

The triumphant Blue Lions (and Constance von Nuvelle, who had hardly left Mercedes’ side since splitting off from Byleth, Edelgard, and Hapi) arrived at Garreg Mach in the early evening hours. The Oghma Mountains were covered in snow, which made Dimitri’s heart sing. He smiled down at Marianne, who had begun to clutch at Blutgang tightly the closer they got to Garreg Mach, and said “Ah… It feels like home to be among all this snow. Are you comfortable?” Marianne smiled up at him, and nodded. “I-I am, yes. Edmund gets fairly cold during the winter, though we don’t see as much snow as Faerghus does near the capitol… It’s nice to see you smiling.” Dimitri was about to respond in kind when Felix made an annoyed groan from behind them. Dimitri’s face went red, and he resumed his focus as they guided their horses to the Garreg Mach stables.

After taking a moment to stretch his stiff arms and legs, Dimitri helped Marianne down from her mount. By all regards she had no need of it, but he enjoyed the brief contact, and it seemed as though she did too. The other Blue Lions, mostly egged on by Ingrid, marched straight for the dining hall. Before Dimitri could join them, Marianne stopped him, tugging at his arm. He cocked his head. “What is it?” Holding Blutgang up a little higher, Marianne said “Well… It’s just that, Professor Byleth wanted us to hand Blutgang over to Seteth right away when we got back. B-but...“ She looked away, suddenly embarrassed. In a much smaller voice than before, she finished her thought. “Seteth frightens me a little.”

Dimitri placed a hand on top of hers, feeling the strange sensation of an Relic tugging at his blood in a futile attempt to find its Crest. “I understand that. Seteth can be a stern man, though I assure you that he is actually a very kind person. But, if it would make you feel better, I would be happy to accompany you. What do you say?” Marianne nodded, and her smile returned. Slipping an arm into his, they walked together towards the second floor of the administrative building, hoping to find Seteth still at work despite the time. As they knocked at his door, Seteth’s voice floated out, sounding quite tired. “You may enter.”

After they entered the room, Dimitri caught sight of not only Seteth, but Ethur and Cernunnos as well. He bowed politely as all three green-haired men in the room stared at the sword in Marianne’s hands. He cleared his throat, and looked down at Marianne while giving her shoulder a small squeeze for support. She smiled briefly at him, then looked at Seteth, visibly steeling herself. “I-I, um… My name is Marianne von Edmund, and I… I was told to give Blutgang to you for safe-keeping by Professor Byleth.” Seteth blinked in surprise before standing up from his desk. 

“Ah, certainly! Yes, I shall, er… That is, Blutgang will be safe with me. If you would, Miss Edmund?” She nodded stiffly, and handed the jagged sword over to Seteth. Her nervousness in holding the sword seemed to transfer over to him as he took it, though Dimitri was certain it was nervousness at holding what they both knew were the bodily remains of the Goddess’ own children. He set it down gently on his desk, then all but fell backwards into his chair. Dimitri cleared his throat, and said “Well, er… We ought to get going. Good day, sirs.” Before he could leave, Ethur spoke up. “Actually, Prince Dimitri, would you mind staying for a moment? I have a matter to discuss with you. Miss Edmund, if you wouldn’t mind waiting outside for a moment…”

Marianne seemed eager to step out of Seteth’s office, so Dimitri did not fight Ethur to let her stay. He gave her a small smile as she left the room, closing the door behind her. Turning back to Ethur, Dimitri braced himself for whatever new request was to be made of him. Ethur looked towards Blutgang with a sadness in his eyes that Dimitri could not quite place. He sighed deeply before turning back to Dimitri. “Before she left on your journey, Byleth informed me of her plans, and asked me to begin the process of preparing suitable replacements for each house that gave up their Relic. I was wondering… Do you have any idea what sorts of items the noble houses of Faerghus would accept in the place of their Relics?”

Dimitri was stunned at the audacity of this idea. Though the Church could, in theory, request that the noble houses turn over their Relics at any time, it was commonly understood to be an unthinkable idea. If they were replaced… “Well… I would suspect that it would need to replicate the Relic in function, and at least generally in form. So, to use my friend Ingrid as an example: to replace Luin, she would need a sturdy, powerful, and lightweight lance, for Relics are nearly feather-light in the hands of someone with a compatible Crest. Linking the items to their Crests would be ideal, but that seems a bit far-fetched… Does that help at all?” Ethur nodded firmly. “More than you realize. Many such weapons already exist, the so-called ‘sacred weapons’ of the church, forged during the War of Heroes. Each one carries a blessing with it linked to one of your Crests. They are precious to the church, but in exchange for the Relics… It would perhaps be a fair trade.”

Dimitri nodded emphatically. “If the various houses were told that they were receiving treasures of the Church in exchange for their Relics, it would make the request far easier to swallow. Some would still likely refuse, but… Well, strictly speaking I can only imagine Margrave Gautier refusing, and Sylvain can do as he pleases now that he has the Lance of Ruin. Margrave Gautier is not in a position to disinherit him even if he objected, so… I believe it would work all around, yes.” Ethur nodded again. “My thanks, Prince Dimitri. If you would be so kind as to inform the Relic-holding Blue Lions about this, I will set to work making the various sacred weapons available soon.” Dimitri bowed again, and begged his leave. 

Marianne was waiting for him outside, and smiled as he approached. He brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear, forgetting the world for a moment. “Ready for dinner, beloved?” Marianne’s smile grew brighter and wider, and she wrapped her hand in his. “Lead the way!”

  
  


**\- 23rd of the Red Wolf Moon, Imperial Year 1180 -**

A knock on Jeralt’s door tore his mind away from the abysmally dull paperwork he’d been pouring over for the better part of the morning. Already weary from work (or maybe it was more fitting to say that that was just his default state these days?), he knew didn’t have the energy to deal with _more_ foolishness from his new recruits, but called out “Enter” anyway. Instead of one of his knights, Cyril opened the door, holding a small sheaf of letters in his hand. Without waiting for Jeralt to speak, the Almyran boy walked calmly up to Jeralt’s desk, plopped the letters down, and bowed. “Real busy today”, he said, as if he were ever anything _but_ busy. Just as quickly as he had come, Cyril left. Jeralt chuckled, amused by the boy’s antics and more than a little relieved to not have to deal with his recruits.

Jeralt pulled the letters out of their stack, grateful for an excuse to ignore his paperwork for a while. One of them bore the seal of House Aegir of the Empire, another the seal of House Kleiman of the Kingdom, a third the seal of House Gloucester of the Alliance, and the fourth the seal of House Riegan, also of the Alliance. Weighing his options, he selected the letter from House Riegan first - Duke Oswald was always a good and fair employer in his mercenary days, and had more sense than the other three put together. He slit the top open, pulling out a small, short letter.

_Captain Jeralt,_

_Hopefully this finds you well enough. You were probably expecting a different Riegan to be sending this. Sorry to disappoint, but it’s just Claude._

_I’m writing to you with two pieces of news today, though I’ll leave whether they’re good or bad news to your discretion. First, since you’ll care more about this, I wanted to let you know about Byleth. She and the rest of the Golden Deer got caught up in one of House Goneril’s border skirmishes with the Almyran army. When I last saw her this afternoon, she was preparing to ride for Goneril manor, then off to Fodlan’s Locket. Even assuming that the battle with the Almyrans goes quickly, I wouldn’t expect her back before the 27th or 28th at the earliest - the Golden Deer also have a mission to go deal with a foul little toad of a noble north of the Great Bridge of Myrddin, and I’d imagine Byleth will want to handle that before she returns, if the reward is what I expect it to be._

_Second, and please feel free to share this news with Rhea: my grandfather, Duke Oswald, has died. Thus, I’m now stuck in Derdriu, awaiting an emergency roundtable meeting. The laws of succession, not to mention my grandfather’s will, clearly indicate that as the next head of House Riegan, I’m going to be officially named the next Grand Duke of the Alliance. I’ll be sending proper diplomatic introductions and other fancy bullshit to Rhea and the other leaders of Fodlan once Count Gloucester gets his head out of his ass and confirms me, though I wouldn’t count on that happening overnight. My guess is that he’ll force a couple days of pointless bickering and negotiation first. What can you do, eh?_

_Cordially,_

_Grand Duke Claude von Riegan_

Jeralt let out a long, low whistle. Duke Oswald the Old had finally passed. He shook his head. That was pretty shocking news, though everyone at the monastery knew intellectually it was a possibility after his health deteriorated back in the Horsebow Moon. Jeralt uncorked his flask, pouring a little of his whisky out into a nearby potted plant. He also took a quick nip of it, since it was already uncorked. He set the letter aside for a moment, his brow furrowing as he found himself unable to stop from worrying about Byleth. She was a hell of a warrior even before getting her goddess powers, but the Almyran army fought hard. He had run jobs out in Almyra before, and lost more men than he cared to acknowledge to Almyran cavalry.

In an attempt to focus on something else, he opened up Duke Aegir’s letter, hoping that its contents would allay his worries for a moment. They very much did not, and Jeralt began to scowl as he read Duke Aegir’s glowing description of Byleth’s “vaunted heroism”, which had evidently earned her a title, the “Lady of Flames”. It smacked of noble bullshit, and he knew Byleth would hate it the minute she caught wind of it. He read further, until he got to the line “ _Therefore, it is my humble suggestion that we formally forge a contract between us, joining our children together in betrothal_ ”, where he began to see red.

He stuffed the letter back into its envelope and ripped it up, seething at the audacity of Duke Aegir to _dare_ try to take Byleth’s autonomy from her. If she ever married, it sure as fucking hell would not be because he and some pompous noble shit’s father got together and wrote up a damn contract for her! He angrily took another swig of whisky, despite hearing Byleth’s voice in his head chiding him about drinking before noon. He grabbed at another letter, this one from Viscount Kleiman, and made it about halfway through before he tore this letter in half as well. Another damn betrothal! Unsurprisingly, the most shameless, power-hungry little backbiter in the entire Kingdom wanted Byleth as a broodmare. Jeralt would have throttled the little shit instead of rescuing him back in the day, had he known… 

Apprehensively, he opened the final letter, from Count Gloucester. It opened with the same flowery prose praising Byleth’s virtues, calling her the Lady of Flames again… He set it down, pinching the bridge of his nose. He already knew where this was going, and reading the same thing a third time in one day was liable to give him an ulcer. Sweeping those three worthless letters into a pile, he wadded them up and hurled them into the air. Remembering his childhood lessons, he channeled all his energy together, creating a small Fire spell in his hand. He launched it at the letters, burning them to ashes in mid-air. He was repaid for his effort by an overwhelming sense of fatigue - he hadn’t used his magic in a long, long time, after all. He laid his head on the desk, resting for a while, before he stood. Taking Claude’s letter with him, Jeralt marched towards the audience chamber to share word of the Alliance’s soon-to-be new leader.

  
  


**\- 26th of the Red Wolf Moon, Imperial Year 1180 -**

Rhea was working away in her office, having a relatively problem-free day as far as her life went. The sun was shining outside, though it had done little to melt the snows that had buried Garreg Mach. What’s more, she had been made positively giddy by her last visit to speak to Seteth in private. He had indulged in wine with her as they talked, and she gradually caught wind of a familiar scent, one that she had not detected from him since his happy days with Eithne, many years ago… He steadfastly refused to tell her who had captivated his heart so, though he could not deny that he was experiencing, as he put it, “troublesome feelings”. She told him in no uncertain terms that she, their brothers, and Flayn would be utterly thrilled for him to find happiness again.

She smiled to herself at her desk, but was brought crashing back to reality by an urgent knock on her door. She sighed, forcing her emotions back down below the surface, and called out “You may enter.” Catherine entered, the odd sheen of her blue eyes causing Rhea’s skin to itch just by looking at it. Guilt threatened to swallow her every time she looked at Catherine these days, but she managed to push through enough to be able to address her. “What is it, Catherine? You seem to be in a rush.” Catherine bowed, a troubled expression on her face. “I… Something has come up, Lady Rhea, and… Would you come with me to Professor Hanneman’s office?”

Rhea blinked. Hanneman? As far as she knew, Hanneman had no reason to call for her. Unless it involved Crests, he usually… Ah. Suddenly, she knew exactly what this was about. She sighed wearily, and stood. “Very well. Let us go.”

The two of them arrived at Hanneman’s office to find the door open as the man himself scurried around, hurriedly attempting to clean. Catherine cleared her throat, and he turned back to face the door, a book in one hand a large glass beaker in the other. His eyes widened at the sight of Rhea standing in the doorway, and his monocle fell from its place, swinging by its chain. “O-oh! Lady Rhea! I… Forgive me for the state of this office. I have been working on a project, and lost track of myself. Er… Please, come in!” Rhea smiled at him, trying to ease his nerves, and entered. Catherine shut the door behind them, and the three of them sat down together. Hanneman fidgeted nervously, but did not look to want to start the conversation. Rhea looked instead to Catherine, who nodded.

“Well, Lady Rhea… Professor Hanneman has been, er… Helping me, I suppose?” He nodded at her, and she smiled ever so slightly. “Ever since you healed me after the incident with Lord Lonato, my physical condition has deteriorated, as we’ve talked about before. Somehow, your healing gift bestowed a miracle onto me, and gave me the Crest of Seiros. It’s truly an honor to be blessed by the Goddess like this, but…” She looked to Hanneman, who nodded back at her.

Clearing his throat, Hanneman began to speak. “To put it simply, Lady Rhea… Catherine’s body is destroying itself by trying to hold two Crests within it simultaneously. Now… as you know, I have been conducting research into this phenomenon. I have developed a method that should allow me to remove a person’s Crest from their body. It is a fairly invasive procedure, and I have no idea whether or not this procedure would strip Catherine of _both_ of her Crests, or if I can isolate just the one. To my knowledge, this is an unprecedented occurrence, so there is no real way to test it… But the methodology is sound. I can perform the operation at any time.”

Rhea’s breath caught in her throat. It was a heresy, what Hanneman had learned to do… And yet, if it saved Catherine’s life, did that matter? To buy herself time to think, she asked “Hypothetically speaking, if you were to perform this operation on Catherine… How long would it be until we knew if it had worked? And what are the risks involved?” 

Hanneman nodded - evidently he had expected those questions. “Well, if my method accidentally targets both Crests, it would be as simple as placing Thunderbrand in her hands. If it still glowed, that would mean that she still bore the Crest of Charon. True confirmation via my Crest analyzer would only take a few hours, since I have ample data to compare against. As for risk… I would, of course, have Manuela with me during surgery so that she could provide emergency medical care if needed. Barring any freak accidents, I cannot foresee it failing.”

Rhea frowned. Even the possibility of a “freak accident” claiming Catherine’s life was too much. She had cursed her most loyal and caring knight… She would not lose her now. But… There was a way around this, one that would allow her to be certain that Catherine would survive even a freak accident.

Standing, Rhea put a hand on the door. “I will give my approval to this plan on one condition - you _must_ have Professor Byleth and myself in the operating room as well.” Hanneman’s eyes lit up with the same curious fire he always got when hunting down some Crestological mystery, and he nodded enthusiastically. “That would be quite alright with me, Lady Rhea! I shall spend the intervening days until her arrival preparing.” 

Rhea placed a hand on Catherine’s shoulder, thankful that it was not trembling. “Catherine… Until Byleth returns, I would like for you and Shamir to stay in the monastery. Your missions are hereby cancelled until further notice.” Catherine bowed her head, but before she could speak, Rhea swept out of the room, almost breaking into a run as she hurried to the solitude of her solar so that she could let break down like she so desperately wanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like this date format, you can thank my other ongoing fic, Umber Snow. Truthfully the only reason I haven't added it into A Matched Pair yet is because I need to go in and update the structure of the *entire* fic all in one go or else the part of my brain that demands symmetry would yell at me. You can expect to see everything swap over to this style soon, since it's honestly *so* much easier on me, and it'll allow me to throw in small edits for grammar or strange wording along the way. Speaking of Umber Snow, I've got another chapter of that coming down the pipeline soon, possibly before the next update for this fic if I get froggy about it. If you don't like this date format... Sorry?
> 
> Yes, I used the same name for the ancestor of the Hevrings in this as in Umber Snow. Fight me. I also did it for the ancestor of the Aegirs.
> 
> Not that anyone really cares, but the "legend" about the Fodlandy in-game is actually the opposite of what Flayn said here. Instead of its coming heralding a storm, the flavor text of the quest to catch a Fodlandy in Three Houses says that it shows up in the wake of a storm. But, there was no storm on the 14th of Red Wolf Moon - Byleth left that day, and the weather was clear.
> 
> Look, I mean... Seteth's absolutely shredded, and I do not blame Manuela one tiny bit for being thirsty at that. God damn. I mean, just *look* at him: https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/334706226849906691/816083430143688724/Seteth_Damaged.png
> 
> Macuil spoke obliquely about the sacred weapons because it's known that Saint Macuil forged them, and it would blow his cover as Ethur to say "oh, I'll just whip up some new ones, no problem."
> 
> If you're lost by my mentioning Jeralt's "childhood lessons", a few chapters back, I gave my headcanon version of the history of House Eisner, which is that they were once a house of mages in the Kingdom who carried the Crest of Macuil. Jeralt never had much of an affinity for magic, and was also born crestless, so his younger brother took over the house. His brother never was able to have a child, and Jeralt refused to leave the Knights of Seiros to save his former house, so they died out.
> 
> I would like to formally announce that this chapter ended on page 69 of the new document. That is all.


End file.
